


Outcasts

by realmsoffreedom



Series: Outcasts [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, trigger warnings will be in each chapter so don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmsoffreedom/pseuds/realmsoffreedom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is returning to school after spending a year in a mental hospital after trying to kill himself. During that year he was gone, The Way family, the Bryar Family, and the Toro family moved to his area, meaning Gerard, Mikey, Bob, and Ray go to his school. Gerard is selectively mute, angry, with walls up, guarding his broken and painful past, and Frank is just trying to get through the rest of the school year without wanting to kill himself again. The connection they form is like no other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've kinda fallen in love with this band...I've liked them for a while, but recently, it's just feels on top of feels, so much so that I had to write a fic. I know that so many people have done types of fics like these before, but I'm hoping mine will be different. The things I've tagged will be mentioned quite graphically, so if you're triggered, please don't read those parts. I'll put warnings at the beginning of every chapter, and for those of you who can't read certain scenes because they'll trigger you, you can message me on tumblr (my tumblr is theghostofashton), and I'll give you a quick, untriggering synopsis of the scene so you'll know what's going on.
> 
> That's all coming later - for now, enjoy. There's nothing really that triggering in this chapter, except a mention of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, and a hint of an eating disorder.

I tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt self-consciously, my gaze flickering from the ground to the looming building lying before me. It would be so easy to run and hide – sneak back home and use the excuse of a bad panic attack. It wouldn’t even be an excuse – I can feel myself trembling, shivering even through the wind had not nipped through the air in a few hours. I’m not panicking, but I am goddamn close to it.

The school resembles a castle with gallows. There are no towers or moats, but it’s decorated like something out of a Harry Potter novel. I guess the designers had the idea that making the building seem inviting – I mean, who _doesn’t_ like Harry Potter? – would make kids want to go to school. On the outside, it didn’t look like a bad place at all – in fact, it almost looking welcoming. The inside could not be further from that – it was hell on earth, full of taunting homophobic assholes, fake ass teachers, and more stress than there was room for. This is just another reason I should be locked up. School shouldn’t make me this suicidal.

“Hey, you going in?”

The guy standing in front of me has a crazy afro – that’s the first thing I notice. His hair is wild as hell, though it doesn’t seem to bother him too much. 

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

He falls into place beside me, as we walk up the steps and into the school. “So, you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

My heart thuds, panic flooding my chest and making me numb. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, the sensation overtaking my body and an invisible cold sweat washing over me. “Y-Yeah, I guess you could say t-that…”

“You okay? You look a little pale and shaky…” 

“Fine.” I force myself to calm down, though the nerves have yet to dissipate. 

“Okay, well, do you know where your first class is? I can help you, if you need directions.”

“I know where I’m going,” I reply shakily. “Thanks anyway.”

He nods, a smile coming to his face. “Feel free to find me, if you need any help. I’m Ray. Ray Toro.”

“Frank. Frank Iero.”

…

A lot of things have changed – there are new systems in place, new ways of doing things, and a lot of remodeling has been done – but a few things have remained stagnant. The bullies are just as vicious, the teachers are just as negligent, and this place makes me just as suicidal as it did before I got sent away. The amount of shit I’ve already gotten is staggering, especially considering we’re only a couple hours into the school day. 

Walking into my English class brings a sense of relief – English and music have always been two of my best subjects. I feel free – like I can’t be wrong, because English isn’t nearly as structured as Algebra 2 and Chemistry are. I’ve always done extremely well in this class – I’m taking an English class with seniors, because of how consistently high my grades have been.

When I first enter the room, my attention is immediately drawn to the back. There’s a guy sitting in the back corner, sketching into a notebook with his earbuds in. He’s completely dressed in black, from his jeans, to his hoodie, to his long hair. His frame is large and his shoulders are broad, yet he looks uncharacteristically gaunt, very thin. He’s pale as actual hell – his skin looks almost white – a deep contrast to his clothes and hair. 

I think I’ve finally found someone who might understand what I’m going through.

I know it’s shitty to judge someone based on appearance, and the term “emo” sparks copious amounts of hatred in me, but that guy looks like someone I’d definitely want to be friends with. I tend to gravitate toward the rejects, the outcasts, the emos, you could say. Kids just like me, misunderstood by everyone but the people who are just like them.

The kids who dress head to toe in black, covering their arms – because most of us tend to be self-harmers – and keeping to themselves. Most people want to get through their day with a smile on their faces, we just want to get through the day without wanting to kill ourselves. The feeling is always there – but the worse it gets, the more likely we are to actually go through with it. 

“Frank?”

I turn around slowly. “Mr. Ryder, I had no idea you teach this class…”

“I switched this year,” he replies, smiling at me. Mr. Ryder was my freshman English teacher – I was only in his class for about a month, before I tried to kill myself and was whisked off to a mental hospital. In that month, I fell in love with his teaching style, and his passion for writing always amazed me. He was an extraordinary teacher.

“Glad to have you back, Frank.” He speaks again, and I nod slightly. “You can go sit in the back, just make sure you don’t sit next to Gerard.”

“Who’s Gerard?”

He motions to the guy in black, and I stare. Why wouldn’t I be allowed to sit next to him? He doesn’t look threatening…not to me, at least. “Why can’t I sit next to him?”

My. Ryder sighs. “Gerard’s a good kid, but he’s got a bad temper and he gets angry a lot. He’s not the type of person you need to be associating with, considering what you’ve been through. Trust me, you’ll be better off leaving him alone. I think he prefers it too.”

“Okay…” I force a smile, and then turn and make my way to the back of the room. The bell rings a moment later, and Mr. Ryder starts class, but all I can think about is Gerard, and why everyone seems so terrified of him.

He’s completely isolated and secluded – there is no one sitting next to, in front of, or diagonal to him. All the kids have managed to position themselves as far away as possible, and I kinda feel bad for him. I’m sure he’s not a horrible person – probably just misunderstood, like I am. 

…

I don’t know why I bothered taking art.

I had a free space in my schedule, and I thought art would be nice. It’s just as free-minded as writing is – you can’t be _wrong_ , and that’s what I love about it. 

The assignment was just to paint emotion. As ambiguous as that. I think I’m gonna love this class, if all the assignments are like this. It’s a way to relax, just painting or drawing anything – the sky’s the limit, and there’s no way to really be wrong.

Gerard is in this class, and sure enough, he’s in the back again. However, the teacher seems to really like him – he must be her favorite. They’ve been discussing his sketches for almost fifteen minutes – she’s the only person that he’ll let see his sketchbook, from the looks of things.

I watch them, intrigued, as Gerard points a few things out, nodding to what she says following that. A hint of a smile peaks onto his face – I assume she just complimented his work. It’s nice to see him smiling – something tells me that doesn’t happen often. He looks relaxed, at ease – a deep contrast to the angry, tight, hunched position he was in, in English. He really must love art.

“Frank?”

I look up, realizing it’s Ms. Franklin that is standing in front of me. She must’ve left Gerard’s side and moved to mine, while I zoned out. 

“So, what’s your painting of?” Her voice is warm and genuinely intrigued, as she stares at the canvas in front of me. 

I force a smile. “Emptiness.”

Her own smile fades. “Elaborate. You’ve got my interest.”

“I’m using shades of white, grey, and black to paint the feeling of emptiness. I’ve felt it a lot recently, a feeling that isn’t really a feeling. Emptiness makes you feel numb, like pain is unable to penetrate an invisible barrier you’ve put up for yourself. It’s kind of worse than feeling pain, because you just don’t feel anything. You get hurt, and it’s like it goes straight through you, the pain not lingering as it usually does. That’s why I consider emptiness one of the most painful feelings ever – it’s like being stuck in a rut you can’t get out of.”

…

“Frank, over here!”

I shift my backpack higher on my shoulder, glancing over to where my name is being called. Ray is waving frantically, almost making a fool out of himself in his futile attempts to get my attention. His last attempt has finally succeeded, and I plaster a smile onto my face, walking over to his table.

When I get there, my eyes widen almost comically. Gerard is sitting at the corner of the table, still buried in his sketchbook. I didn’t know they were friends…this might be a good thing. Get to know Ray, and indirectly get to know Gerard. Two more guys are sitting at the table, one with straight brown hair and a beanie pulled over it, and another with messy blond hair.

“Sit, there’s room.” Ray motions to the empty seat next to him, and I nod nervously, dropping down into the chair. “Okay, guys, this is the guy I told you about, Frank. And Frank, these are my best friends, Gerard, Mikey, and Bob.” He motions to each one in turn, as he calls their name, and I nod again. 

Gerard makes no move to acknowledge me, but Mikey and Bob mutter soft greetings.

“Gerard’s my older brother,” Mikey tells me. “He doesn’t talk much…”

“He’s a softie at heart,” Ray promises. “You just gotta get to know him, to see it. Don’t believe any of the shit you hear about him that’s floating around. Those rumors came from stupid ass jocks with nothing better to do with their lives. Don’t believe a single word.”

“I didn’t,” I reply. “Besides, what do they know? They don’t know how it feels to be an absolute outcast.”

Mikey smiles approvingly. “I like you, Frank. You’ll fit right in.”

I duck my head, folding my hands in my lap.

“Hey, where’s your lunch?” Bob asks. “Did you bring something? ‘Cause if not, one of us can come up with you, if you wanna buy anything.”

“I’m okay, thanks though.”

“Eat.”

I freeze.

The four of us turn to Gerard, and I can already feel my stomach start to twist, under his wary gaze. His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it in a while. 

“I know how you think,” Gerard continues. “And starving yourself is gonna get you nowhere, trust me, I’ve tried. Go get something. Mike, go with him.”

And then he turns right back to his sketchbook, like the conversation had never happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments - I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying this. I'm on spring break right now, that's why this update is coming so quickly, but my break ends this Sunday, I go back to school on Monday. That means slower updates, but I'll try and post another chapter before my break ends. 
> 
> Anyway, the first scene is especially triggering, for depression, suicide attempt, and suicidal thoughts. Throughout the chapter, there's more triggering paragraphs, and trigger warning for self-harm at the end. Enjoy.

The rest of the day goes alright – Gerard isn’t in any more of my classes, so that’s kind of a bummer. I want to get to know him better. I was right, about him being a very interesting person, and someone who understands. 

At first, I thought that coming back to school would be entirely a nightmare. Coming back to the place that was the reason for my suicide attempt just screams wrong, but I actually think it could be a good thing. It was either this, or transfer to a private school, and those are just so much more work and stress. Public school seems like the most reliable option – I just need to be wary of bullies, and try and ward away the suicidal thoughts enveloping my mind.

Making my way home is easy. The school is within walking distance, and that couple of miles is a great time to be alone and think. I appreciate the time of solitude – I can use it to reflect on the day I’ve had, to calm myself down, any number of things would work. My parents tend to worry much more because of what happened – my mom decided to start working from home, so she can be there for me after I get home, and my dad has taken less hours at his office.

They’re really trying to make things work, and I definitely appreciate it. I know I put them through a lot when they found me unconscious, almost dead because of the drug overdose, blood loss, and alcohol in my system. I was very close to killing myself – however, I don’t know whether I regret it or not. 

The mental hospital was good for me – as much as I protested going in the beginning. It did help, but it didn’t _fix_ me, so to say. I have to fix myself, and that’s going to take a hell of a lot longer than a year. Recovery can take decades, and even after you achieve it, there will always be bad days. There are always days where you’ll just wake up and wish you hadn’t. It’s part of depression – the main reason it kicks your ass. And the worst part? It doesn’t choose its victims based on their stories – it’s a random thing. Like natural selection, you can either fight it and survive, or let it consume you and end up dying – the cause of death – eternal sadness.

It’s a horrible way to die.

Countless people have told me that I don’t deserve this – that I shouldn’t feel like this. I’ve even heard that this is worse than dying by murder – at least victims of murder don’t want to die, and don’t have a choice in the matter. Me, and people like me…we feel enough pain that the only escape – the only light at the end of the tunnel is death.

For normal people, the truth is hard to swallow.

For people like me, this is our reality.

…

The next few days are uneventful.

School has been mundane – Gerard hasn’t spoken another word to me, since my first day. I’ve sat with him, Ray, Mikey, and Bob every day at lunch, and I think I’m starting to understand what he meant when he said that starving isn’t the answer, and he knows it from experience.

I’ve watched Mikey subtly try to coax him to eat something, and I’ve also seen Gerard’s looks of anger – the exasperated whispers that could almost translate to ones full of pure venom. Mikey is his brother, I don’t think he means to be so rude…but the rumors about him having a ferocious temper are coming to mind.

Ray said not to believe a word, and I’m trying not to, but as the days pass, Gerard is seeming to fit the rumors more and more. Maybe it’s because I don’t know him that well, but from what I’ve seen, he does fit the rumors – his temper, his anger – it matches up. I’m not judging him by any means…I’m just confused. Confused as fuck.

I guess I kinda need someone my age, who will understand. Someone to understand the urges to cut, the days I just want to die, the days I just don’t feel like eating…everything. I need someone to understand, because otherwise, I’m gonna go crazy. Living in a world where no one understands you is so fucking difficult. You’re in pain, and no one recognizes it, because they don’t understand. 

“Frank? You in there, man?”

I blink, shaking my head slightly. Ray, Mikey, and Bob are staring at me in concern…I must’ve zoned out again. My thoughts take over a lot – it’s not something I can really control, but I try and make sure it doesn’t happen often.

“Sorry, just thinking. What’d you say?” I reply.

“Well, everyone’s coming over to our place this afternoon,” Mikey says, touching his brother’s shoulder. Gerard jerks away, bringing his arms in close to his body, continuing to sketch. Mikey sighs, continuing. “We were wondering if you wanted to join? We’re just gonna hang out, eat, and maybe watch movies.”

“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Yeah, that’d be fun…”

“Awesome.” Mikey grins at me. “Stop by one of our lockers at the end of the day – Gee usually drives all of us.”

“He has his license?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t know Gerard was that much older…

“Yeah, he’s 17. I’m still waiting to get mine, Ray can’t pass his damn test, and Bob only has his permit.”

“You’re what, 15?” I ask.

Mikey nods. “Ray’s 17, Bob is 16, and I think you said you’re a sophomore…so, 15?”

“Yep,” I affirm softly. “My birthday’s on Halloween.”

“That’s fucking sick,” Ray exclaims. “We’re gonna have to do something really amazing for Halloween this year.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” I shake my head, dropping my gaze to my lap. My last birthday was miserable. It was spent in the mental hospital, and one of the patients killed himself that day, so the entire day was somber. It was my birthday, but no one really took much notice of it. My parents were both stuck at work, they couldn’t come. I spent it feeling empty – no sign of joy or happiness, even on my birthday. And then…to end it, I cut so deep I passed out, and had to be moved to isolation. It was miserable, and now, my birthday will always be marred with those memories. That’s why I hate celebrating it.

“Of course we do, it’s your _birthday_!” Bob protests. “You gotta celebrate your birthday! It’s in a little over a month, and since it’s on Halloween, we’ll make it the scariest, most kick-ass birthday you’ve ever had. No protesting.” 

I don’t want to push the issue, so I nod. This isn’t the time for them to find out how fucked up I am. I’m going to avoid telling them for as long as I can…I wouldn’t want to lose them because I’m a whiny ass sad kid with no reason to live. “Surprise me.”

“Trust me,” Ray replies. “You’ll be surprised.”

…

“Hey, you ready to go?”

“I thought I was supposed to meet you…” I pull a book out of my locker and shove it in my bookbag, before zipping it up, closing my locker, and turning my full attention to Ray.

“You were, but then I asked to go to the bathroom a minute before the bell rang, so I technically got out early,” Ray replies. 

I roll my eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I fall into step beside him, as he leads me out of the building, most likely to Gerard’s car.

When we get there, I notice Gerard leaning against the car, cigarette in his mouth. He exhales, before putting it out and looking to Ray.

“Ready?” He speaks in the same rough tone he used previously. “Bob and Mike are staying late, Mikey needs help with Geometry, and Bob said he’d drive him back after.”

“Is he allowed to do that?” I ask, wanting to slap my hand over my mouth as soon as the words are out, because Gerard is now staring at me. I can feel myself shrinking under his stare, and god, why did I open my stupid mouth?

“Relax, Gee,” Ray cautions. “Let’s just go.”

Gerard nods, turning and getting into the driver’s seat. Ray glances at me, and I shrug, still feeling my heart pound in my chest.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I didn’t…I don’t know…”

“Gee’s just being an ass, relax,” He replies. “Today was shitty for him, pay him no mind.”

I say nothing, wordlessly climbing into the backseat, while Ray steals shotgun. As I put my seatbelt on, Gerard pulls out of the parking lot, and then we’re sitting in stony silence for a few minutes. 

The entire drive is tense – Ray’s on his phone, Gerard is focused on the road, and I’m fidgeting nervously, wondering if the older Way brother hates me now. It’s an irrational thought – to believe someone hates you even though you haven’t really done anything wrong – but this is my anxiety talking, my anxiety thinking…this is all my anxiety. There’s nothing I can do about it. Meds can only do so much.

The car stops, and my head snaps up, taking in our surroundings. Gerard parks the car in the driveway of their house, and grabs his bookbag, before getting out and slamming the door shut. Ray and I follow close behind, as he opens the front door, and we all step inside.

“Gee, honey, is that you?”

A woman – most likely Gerard and Mikey’s mother, comes into the room, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees me. “Is this one of your new friends? I don’t recognize him…”

Gerard says nothing. He leans in to kiss his mother’s cheek, before retreating down the hallway. We hear a door slam, and then heavy, thudding footsteps.

“He had a bad day,” Ray explains. “If I were you, I’d leave him alone for a bit.”

She nods, turning to me. “I’m sorry, I just realized I hadn’t introduced myself. I’m Donna, Gerard and Mikey’s mom. I don’t really recognize you…did you just move here?”

I plaster on a fake smile and nod. I hate lying, but explaining everything would take too long and I’m not ready to do that right now. “Yeah. I’m Frank Iero.”

“Nice to meet you, Frank,” she says gently. “Now Ray, where is my other son?”

“He stayed after for Geometry help. Bob will bring him home,” Ray tells her. 

“Alright. There’s food in the kitchen, if either of you are hungry. I won’t bother you.”

“You wanna go hang out in Mikey’s room?” Ray asks. “They should be home soon, so…”

“I actually…” I mumble. “I wanna go talk to Gerard…”

Ray’s smile fades. “I…I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He’s in an awful mood, it’s best to leave him alone.”

“I’ll be okay,” I insist. “I just wanna talk to him.”

…

Apparently, Gerard’s room is located in the basement. Ray warned me profusely against this, but I don’t really care about what he said. I want to talk to Gerard…he’s had a shitty day, and I know what that feels like. Something tells me he’s just like me, in more ways than one. Maybe I can help him…

I descend down the stairs, until I’ve finally reached his room, and my eyes widen.

“Get the fuck out.”

I freeze where I am, still staring at Gerard’s arm. His _bloody_ arm. _Shit_. I suspected something, but I didn’t think it was… _this_ …

Gerard looks up again, and this time, his face shows absolute anger; rage. “Get the _fuck_ out!”

And I run.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of depression, self-harm, and anxiety, along with a panic attack at the end of the chapter. Enjoy.

I’m antsy as absolute hell.

Gerard hasn’t come up since I walked in on him hurting himself, and it’s been almost two hours. I’ve been fidgety, anxious, and distracted the entire time – even when Mikey and Bob joined us, I paid them no attention. I just need to know if Gerard’s okay.

“Hey, guys, is Gerard coming up too?” I ask, trying and failing to sound casual or nonchalant. 

Mikey looks up at me sadly. “No, Frank, he doesn’t…he doesn’t like people very much. He doesn’t like talking, he doesn’t like contact – he wants to be alone. I’ve tried to coax him up here a few times, but it hasn’t really worked…he wants to be by himself.”

“Oh…”

“Mike,” Ray says gently. “You should tell him. Some, at least.”

“Gee wouldn’t want me to…” Mikey replies nervously, glancing from the older boy to me quickly. “He doesn’t want everyone knowing, he doesn’t want to be treated differently.”

“Yeah, but Frank’s one of us now.” Ray shoots me a reassuring smile. “He deserves to know, and maybe it’ll help him understand Gee’s erratic behavior. It’s normal, to us, but it’s weird as hell, for him.”

Mikey sighs, considering it for a moment, before nodding. He turns to me, and I note the obvious hesitancy and fear evident in his gaze. Whatever he has to tell me can’t exactly be good… 

“Wait.”

My heart stops.

Gerard himself comes into the room, and stops beside his brother. He sits down next to Mikey, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulling the brown-haired boy close. Mikey lets his head fall onto his brother’s shoulder, and I smile at the gesture. Despite Gerard’s tough exterior, he obviously loves and cares for Mikey a lot, and it’s amazing to see.

He whispers something in Mikey’s ear, to which the younger boy nods. Mikey turns to me, sighing. “Gee said I can tell you. Not everything, just…he’s fucked up, Frank. And I know it may seem like he’s this closed off asshole that doesn’t give a damn about anyone or anything, but that’s far from the case. He’s my older brother, and he’s been the best big brother anyone could ever ask for.”

Gerard’s jaw is set – his face is absolutely void of emotion. I can see him rubbing up and down Mikey’s back comfortingly, but aside from that, his face is vacant.

“Gee has major depressive disorder, social anxiety, general anxiety disorder, and a few other things,” Mikey explains. “He’s been like this for a while now – closed off, distant, hating the world. He’s not a bad person, and he doesn’t mean to come off that way. He’s angry and cold and distant and scary at first glance, but that’s just a protective measure – he’s been hurt a lot, and he’s trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Mikey sighs. “He’s allowing me to tell you all this – but it doesn’t mean he trusts you. You gotta earn it, like you earned Ray and Bob’s trust.”

I stare at him, trying to process all of this. Gerard and I…we’re more alike than I thought we’d be. I didn’t realize he had all of this shit wrong with him, but now that I do know…I understand, what he’s going through and shit. I want to help him, but it seems like the best way to do that is to leave him alone. He doesn’t seem like he wants to be helped, talked to, or anything right now. He just wants to be left alone.

Gerard looks me in the eye, almost glaring at me. I stare at steadily, feeling my heart constrict with pain and my chest begin to ache. I mean, I get that he has problems and that he’s fucked up, but so am I. Why does it seem like he hates me so much? What have I done? I walked in on him cutting, but that wasn’t my fault.

“I don’t trust you…not yet, at least,” Mikey says. “It’s hard. It’s hard for me to accept that someone new is coming into our lives, someone who doesn’t have the intention of hurting us. You need to give me and Gee time, okay? It’s not easy for us.”

“I never said I was rushing you,” I point out, trying to appear strong, and keep them from realizing that I’m shaking so hard and damn close to an anxiety attack. “I don’t want to rush you. I want to be your friend – I want you to trust and accept me, and if it’s gonna take time, so fucking be it. I can wait.”

…

“You mention none of what you saw to anyone.”

Gerard’s voice is cold, angered and distant. 

I pause, from where I’m tying my shoes, and look up at him. My gut is telling me to just nod and not say anything, but my heart speaks otherwise – and somehow – the instinct to listen to my heart is stronger.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut, if you tell me why you’re hurting yourself.”

“I’m not,” Gerard says lowly. “I am not hurting myself. I was trying to carve something, and I accidentally cut my arm.”

“Then why do you not want me telling anyone?” 

I watch Gerard’s eyes widen slightly – he must’ve not expected this. I am a cutter; I know how their minds work. I know how desperate they are – coming up with every damn excuse in the book to keep people from finding out about their deadly addiction.

“Because Mikey will worry,” Gerard mutters. “Because I don’t want you to make my brother’s life anymore stressful than it already is.”

“If you’re cutting, I think he has the right to know, and the right to be worried.”

Gerard stiffens. He glares at me, crossing his arms. I see why people are scared of him – even his figure is intimidating. He hasn’t said anything, and I’m already intimidated as actual hell. He commands fear, wherever he goes. That’s probably why so many people have pre-disposed judgments made, after only seeing him once.

“Listen, and listen well,” Gerard says, almost inaudibly. “If you tell anyone about what you saw, I will see to it that your life becomes an absolute living hell. I have connections. Trust me, you do not want to get on my bad side, and Frank? You’re already too close to it. I protect my friends, and I destroy my enemies. Don’t make yourself my enemy.”

…

Gerard’s threat stays with me. 

His words follow me, creeping up on me at the most random and uncalled for times. He promised to destroy me if anyone found out about his cutting, and to be honest, I’m fucking terrified. If his goal was to scare me into not telling anyone, then he fucking succeeded. I’m scared shitless.

“Frank, honey, there’s someone at the door for you!”

My mom’s voice startles me out of my thoughts, and I feel a pit forming in my stomach. Who could that be? I always get anxious about people on the phone for me, people wanting to see me, shit like that… I don’t know what they want from me, whether they have a reason to hate me, or want to yell at me…all I know is that I’ve probably done something wrong. It seems like I know how to do nothing but fuck up – and that’s been made quite damn obvious in the past few days.

When I finally get downstairs, I find Ray waiting for me, talking to my mother. When he looks at me, seriousness fills his eyes, and the pit in my stomach only grows.

“Let’s go up to your room,” Ray mutters.

I nod shakily, leading him to my bedroom on unsteady, wobbling feet. Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking panic. I can barely breathe at this point – shaky and nervous as hell. I want to cry, there’s a lump in my throat, and I’m just terrified he’s gonna yell at me.

“Frank? Frank, what’s wrong?”

I look up, my vision swimming blurrily. “Panic attack.” I manage to force the words out, squeezing my eyes shut. I’m so fucking stupid; I can’t stop breathing every time someone wants to talk to me. This is so fucking stupid, I’m so fucked up. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal?

“Shhhh, just breathe. Stop thinking, just focus on me.” Hands are on my shoulders, forcing me down, and I flail weakly, wanting them off.

I’m terrified because I can’t get air into my lungs – I can’t fucking breathe. I’m practically choking, gasping for breath, but my body’s so worked up, that it can’t do what I want it to, and I’m just gasping like a fish out of water. I hate this. I hate it so much. I hate being like this – it’s so awful and terrible and people shouldn’t feel sorry for me because of it. It’s so stupid, and one of the reasons I’m so fucked up.

When my vision finally returns to normal, and my breathing slows down to a normal rhythm, I look up. “I’m so sorry…” I whisper, shaking my head. “You didn’t need to see that, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay,” Ray says gently. “You can’t control that. But really, are you okay? That seemed like a pretty bad one…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I mumble tiredly, still struggling with my breathing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing, it’s alright,” Ray replies, his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter. You just had a panic attack, you should rest.”

“No, tell me,” I insist. “I want to know.”

Ray smiles. “Seriously, Frank, it’s nothing. Don’t worry, please.”

He leaves a few moments later, saying that he believes I should rest and that he’ll see me at school tomorrow. I sigh, slumping back onto my bed in exhaustion. I’m so fucking stupid – I can’t even hold a normal conversation without panicking. I can’t hold a conversation without forgetting how to breathe, and then the other person doesn’t tell me shit because they feel sorry for me. I don’t want to be pitied; I just can’t control this stupid anxiety.

Gerard hates me, he’s probably told Mikey, Ray, and Bob to do the same, and that’s what Ray was here to talk to me about.

And I don’t know if I can live with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got a lot of feedback on the first chapter, but I haven't really gotten very many comments afterward. I'm not one to fish for comments - I use them as a way of knowing if you guys are liking the story. If there's something you don't like, I'd love to hear about it, I don't mind constructive criticism. Are you guys enjoying this? I really hope so...
> 
> Anyway, heavy trigger warnings for thoughts of suicide, self-harm, and depression. Proceed with caution.

I haven’t cut in almost three months. 

Maybe that’s why I’m so hesitant on doing it. I’m staring at the blade in my left hand and contemplating, thinking. 

In a way, I hate myself for even having to think or consider this. I hate myself for having to contemplate – I shouldn’t have to. The answer should be obvious to me – though it is not the one normal people would choose. I shouldn’t have to think about sinking a blade into my flesh, I should just _do it._

My thoughts scare me.

I’ve thought about suicide – and that’s not the scary part, I know that many people have thought about it… For me, the thoughts have been intricate and extremely detailed – I’ve envisioned killing myself, an every exact detail on how I’ll go about it. I’ve pictured swallowing the pills down with vodka, slitting my wrist so deep I cut vein, hanging myself, or jumping off a roof or a bridge. Any one of them would work – and none of them scare me. _That_ is the scary part.

Suicide, for me, isn’t scary. I am not afraid to die. I would welcome death with open arms. Once you get into depression, once the suicidal thoughts claim your mind – getting it back is an ordeal. I don’t have the motivation or the energy to free my mind from the clutches of suicidal thoughts and depressive tendencies. It’s too much work, and I don’t mind the bad thoughts – I’ve gotten used to them – so much so, that if they disappeared for a day, I wouldn’t know how to function.

Throughout my time at the mental hospital, I went through periods of just _not wanting_ to get better. Depression is all I’ve known, ever. I was happy, when I was younger, but I barely remember it, and the parts I do remember make me hate myself even more, for being so carefree and doing stupid shit without realizing the repercussions. 

I don’t know anything other than depression, and quite honestly? I don’t really want to be happy. I just want to feel okay again, to have people to lean on when I get bad, and just go through life like that. I want to be able to live like this, and actually _live_. I want people to be there when depression knocks me on my ass, and I want them to know that I’ll do the same for them.

I don’t want to be fixed. 

I just want someone to care.

…

It’s been a while since I’ve had to worry about my sleeves riding up and people seeing my arms.

It’s been a while since I’ve been so damn self-conscious that I’m freezing every time someone so much as looks at me. I haven’t been this paranoid since before my suicide attempt. Back then, it was so much worse. The paranoia had kicked in, full circle, and it completely paralyzed me. It’s not as bad as it was then, but it’s still really shitty.

“Frank!”

Before I have the chance to turn around, Ray catches up to me. “Hey, are you okay? You had a pretty bad panic attack yesterday…”

“I’m fine,” I mutter. I’m not worth his worry. I have panic attacks like no damn tomorrow. I start shaking when I’m talking to anyone I’m unfamiliar with. I’m a complete mess, and honestly, I don’t want their pity. I don’t want to hear their sympathy and have them feel sorry for me, because I don’t deserve it. 

I still don’t know why Ray wanted to talk to me yesterday, and I don’t want him thinking that he has to be friends with me out of pity, because he pities the fact that I have panic attacks. If he wants to leave, if all of them want to leave, they should just say it, get it over with, save me the heartache. 

“He had a panic attack? Shit, when?” Mikey’s voice is heard from behind us, and I sigh, turning to face him. Gerard is standing next to him, looking at me curiously. Just my damn luck.

“I went over to talk to him, and he just…fell apart…” Ray explains. Mikey nods and turns to me, raising an eyebrow, as if waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“You say Gerard has some issues,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. My hands are already trembling, and my heart is pounding. “And you both probably have problems too. I’m fucked up. The panic attacks…they happen a lot. I have social anxiety and general anxiety disorder, too. There’s a lot you guys don’t know…shit that I’m not ready to talk about. But I’m really fucked up.”

“It’s okay.” Mikey puts a hand on my shoulder and looks me in the eye. “We’re all some kind of fucked up. It’s okay We all have issues, and we all help each other, we’re there for each other…it’s nice, to have people you can lean on, people who care about you and won’t abandon you when you need them the most.”

“Let’s go inside…we can talk there,” Ray suggests. He grabs my wrist, as if wanting to pull me along, and I flinch, turning my head away so they don’t see it. I hope they haven’t noticed – if they do, I’m fucking screwed. “Frank? You okay?”

“Frank and I will catch up,” Gerard speaks up, stepping closer to me.

Ray and Mikey glance at him suspiciously, nodding all the same. “See you inside, guys.” Mikey nods to his brother, and then he and Ray head for the school entrance.

“W-What do you need?” I ask nervously. I bring my cut wrist to my chest, waiting for the ache to die out. Ray didn’t grab me hard, but he grabbed my arm right where the cuts are, and it kinda aches and stings. I can feel slickness – my cuts probably started bleeding again. Fuck. 

Gerard leads me to a secluded corner outside the school, and then takes my arm, gently pushing up the sleeve of my sweatshirt. He looks down, rubbing his fingers over the cuts. My arm is still messy with blood – when Ray squeezed it, it caused the cuts to bleed again. 

“Don’t, um…it’s okay, I’m fine…” I stumble for the words, unable to figure out what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it.

Gerard says nothing, as he drops my arm and reaches into his backpack. He pulls out a mini first aid kit, and I watch, as he pops it open. Since when do people carry those things around…? He must’ve known he’d need it…did he suspect that I cut? Did he tell them? 

Panicked thoughts rush through my mind, as Gerard pulls a wipe and gauze from the kit. He uses the wipe to deftly clean the blood away, and I wince as it stings my fresh cuts. He smiles apologetically, and then wraps the gauze around my arm, making sure to secure it.

“Why…?” I ask softly. “I thought you hated me…”

“I don’t hate you, Frank,” Gerard replies, as he puts his first aid kit away. He straightens, looking down at me. “I’m like this with all new people. And now that I’ve seen this…it might incline me to start trusting you more…”

“Knowing I cut myself makes you want to tell me all your deepest and darkest secrets?” 

“No, knowing you cut yourself makes it easier to connect with you. Knowing you cut yourself makes me think that you know how I feel sometimes. I’ll still destroy you if you tell anyone what you saw, but I wouldn’t be opposed to start becoming friends with you.”

“Oh, great, people wanting to trust me and be my friend, just because I’m fucked up,” I say sarcastically. “Every kid’s dream.”

“Cut the goddamn sarcasm,” Gerard snaps, glaring at me. “I’m really trying here. This isn’t easy for me.”

“Sorry,” I reply sullenly. “I don’t know why you’d want to be friends with me, is all…I’m not good to be around…especially if you have issues, because I’ll only trigger you – on accident – and make them worse.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted someone to understand you?” Gerard sighs. “I love Mikey, Ray, and Bob, I really do. I’ve known them for a long time now. But none of them are as badly broken as I am, so it’s hard for them to understand why I slit my wrists, or why there are some days when I wake up in the morning wishing I hadn’t.”

“So you’re calling me broken now?” I snort. “Thanks.” 

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Just telling you what you tell yourself on a daily basis. I know how you think, Frank. I meant what I said your first day here. I know what you’re thinking, and I know that you’re shaking because I intimidate you. You’re trembling because you’re scared that I’m going to yell at you. And you’re wondering why I even want to have this conversation, because what I’ve said recently has scared you enough into thinking I want nothing to do with you. Am I right?”

“This is the most I’ve heard you say, ever since I met you…” I completely deviate from what he said, not exactly wanting to admit he’s right, but at the same time not knowing what to say. Gerard confuses me.

“I don’t talk, I listen. And when I do, I have a lot to say. I just keep my mouth shut, because I’m constantly telling myself people will judge every damn word that comes out of it.”

Not waiting for an answer, he straightens, hefting his backpack back over his broad shoulders. “See you in English, Frank.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and depression. Comments would be lovely, enjoy.

The next few days give me the chance to relax.

Hanging out with Gerard, Bob, Mikey, and Ray is really relaxing. Half the time, we go hang out at Ray’s house and sit in the basement, laughing bitterly about how shitty our lives are. They still don’t know about my past and the mental hospital and everything, and I don’t know about Gerard and Mikey’s pasts. Something tells me Mikey has problems too – he seems very shy and timid, clutching onto his brother’s arm and hiding his face in Gerard’s shoulder a lot. 

It’s actually really cute to see – despite Gerard’s problems being out in the open, Mikey is relying on him for some sort of comfort. I really like seeing them interact. Gerard mainly draws, and allows Mikey to lean against him and cuddle into his side. It’s not as much interaction as you’d think, but it is quite a bit. 

I’ve made myself pretty comfortable around them. It’s not awkward as fuck anymore – though Gerard really doesn’t talk that much. I’m not sure if that’s because of me, or because he’s just normally like that. Bob and Ray do enough talking for all through of them, so that’s kinda nice. We talk about all kinds of fucking things – blowing up the school, the people we hate, what we wish we could be doing with our lives…that sort of thing.

“Whose house are we meeting at today?”

Ray shrugs, glancing at Mikey. “We can do my house, or Mikey’s, but it’d kinda be cool to see yours, Frank.”

I shake my head. “Sorry guys, my mom and dad are at work, and they don’t like me having people over when they’re not home.”

Bob snorts. “That’s bullshit. They’re so overprotective.”

“He’s not even 16 yet, they have the right to be,” Ray reminds him. “Let’s just go to my place. We can use the pool table.”

…

“Do you guys ever wonder what life would be like if we were popular?”

“I would hate it. Fucking despise it.” Gerard speaks almost immediately, lifting his head from his sketchbook, to look Bob in the eye. “Popularity is just a façade of fake friends, forced happiness, and claustrophobia. You eventually feel so damn trapped, because there are so many fucking people counting on you, that you start shooting steroids or cheating to get the grades or plays that you need. It’s a life of desperation.”

“And popular people have so many friends and spend all their time stretching themselves way too damn thin,” I add. “It honestly confuses me, how they’re doing all kinds of clubs and volunteering and shit, and they don’t even realize that they’re wasting these years because of how busy they are.”

“You could argue that we’re doing the same,” Mikey points out. “Spending our high school years in depression and wanting to kill ourselves isn’t exactly ideal, is it?”

“I don’t know about you guys…you kinda have to have depression to really understand what I’m about to say, but to me, depression is a part of my life, and I don’t know who the fuck I’d be without it. It’s almost like I don’t want it to go away, because I’m so used to being unhappy, and being happy scares me to death. I don’t want to live in a world of rainbows and perfection and peppiness…god, that fucking disgusts me,” I say, leaning back into the beanbag I’m sitting on.

“Frank’s right,” Gerard mutters. “Depression is just a part of me now. A part that I’ve gotten so used to having…I don’t want to imagine life without it.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Ray asks incredulously. 

“Not in the slightest,” Gerard replies, without looking at him. “Hell, death doesn’t scare me. I don’t mind dying…part of me would actually want it to happen, part of me would seriously fucking appreciate someone putting me out of my goddamn misery.”

“Gee, don’t…don’t talk like that…” Mikey whispers. “You can’t die…I can’t lose you…”

Gerard sighs. “Death is inevitable. I’m just speeding up the process. I wasn’t really cut out for life, at least I don’t think so.”

“You’re not dying,” Mikey says firmly. “Not until you’re like, 90, and your organs are shutting down. Or, in like a freak accident. Not by your own hand.”

“You don’t control that,” Gerard replies.

“I don’t.” Mikey straightens, looking his brother in the eye. “But I do control how I feel, and if you die on me, if you _leave me_ , I won’t be okay. I won’t know how to deal with it. I won’t know how to function…I just…I won’t be able to live. I won’t live without you. I’ll most likely follow you, because living without you is more pain than I could ever handle.”

“Hold up.” Gerard holds his hand up, stopping his brother at the end of that sentence. “You are _not_ killing yourself, because of me. If anything, that alone is enough to keep me here. The idea of you killing yourself, for _me_ …that’s not okay, Mikey.”

Mikey smiles sadly. “I’d follow you into the dark, Gee. I’d follow you anywhere. You know that.”

…

“Why do so many people look down on us for being the goddamn rejects?” Ray grumbles, putting his head in his hands. “Especially me and Bob…I see so many people looking us _sympathetically_ , like hanging out with you three is a chore. Sure, we’re not nearly as depressed and shit, but we still like hanging out with you. You’re the other half of our group, and I _like_ our group.”

“Misfits,” I reply softly. “That’s what we are. Complete outcasts, cut off from everyone else, only understanding each other, only able to help each other. I mean…I don’t know how to live any other way, and I doubt you guys have any idea of that either. I like being a reject. I like putting my headphones in and zoning the fuck out to music. I like not giving a damn about anything, except how much I want to die. I _like_ that. As scary as it sounds, that’s my reality.”

“You’re a lot like Gee, y’know?” Mikey says. “Quiet, shy, but when you do speak, you have a lot to say. You listen. You observe. You think about things before you say them…that’s why your words hold a lot more meaning.”

“Meaning?” I scoff. “I stumble, stutter, and tremble when I talk. I can’t say what’s on my mind – it never comes out that way. I think faster than I talk. It’s a problem. It’s ruined my life.”

“I think you have a lot to say, you’re just heavily misunderstood,” Mikey replies. “Just like Gee. And once we graduate, you can do whatever the hell you want, and let your voice be heard. Gee’s drawings…they’re fucking amazing, he’s definitely gonna get some good scholarships to art schools. And then he’s going to draw professionally, comics and shit, and paint a picture of all the words he hasn’t been able to say.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out, then?” I address Gerard, watching as he puts his pencil down and looks at me.

“If I can hang on until then.”

…

“Hey, Frank, can I talk to you?”

Ray speaks, just as I go to follow Gerard, Mikey, and Bob out the door.

“You can stay, I’ll drop you off after we talk.”

“I thought you didn’t pass your test…?” i raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs.

“Who cares? I need to talk to you.”

“Alright, what about?”

Ray leads me to the living room, and we both take a seat on one of the couches, before he starts to speak. “Gerard. I…I’ve noticed that you’ve started getting closer to him, and I need to warn you.”

“Warn me? Why?” I ask incredulously, looking at him with pure surprise in my gaze. Wasn’t he the one who said Gerard _wasn’t_ dangerous?

“Gee is really, _really_ fucked up, Frank. His mind doesn’t work right…he’s on a cocktail of pills just to act the way he does, and it’s obvious that he’s fucked up, even with the pills. He…I wouldn’t normally say this, if I didn’t think it needed to be said. However, it looks like you’re starting to develop feelings for him, so I need to warn you ahead of time.”

Freeze.

 _Feelings_? Ray thinks I have _feelings_ for Gerard? Where the fuck did he get that idea?

“Where the hell did you get that?” I ask. “I don’t have feelings for him. I just think he’s a good friend, because he seems like the person who understands me the most, and I’ve never really had a person like that. It’s a nice change, and he’s a good person. I like him, but not anymore than a friend, I promise.”

Expecting a happier expression from the older guy, I start to feel nervous, when I notice the seriousness and sadness housed in his expression. “Is…Is something wrong?”

“No.” Ray shakes his head. “But…I think you should stay away from Gerard for a while. It’s better for you both.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait - school's been kicking my ass. Additionally, I've kinda been feeling shitty in the mental aspect of things...and when that happens, my writing gets affected. The entire first scene is extremely triggering, so feel free to skip it. Trigger warnings for depression, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm.

It’s been three days since Ray asked me to stay away from Gerard, and…they’ve been a pretty miserable three days, if I’m being honest. Not only because of that, but there are other factors, all combining to create a lethal concoction, one that is the recipe for suicide.

Stress is a very painful thing. 

They say that every person on the face of this planet is stressed about _something_ or another, and that might be true. Minor stress, like worrying about the amount of work that needs to be done in a time constraint – that’s common, that’s something that everyone worries about. There are a bunch of common stresses that probably every person has – that’s not what I’m talking about.

The stress I’m referring to is when you have so much work to do, so many deadlines, and on top of that, you have to deal with friendship drama, relationship issues, etc. Pile after pile of things that need to get done – all of which are too important to ignore. I’m the kind of person that can’t say no – I have trouble with assertiveness, so I end up stretching myself too damn thin, and it’s my own fucking fault. 

I’ve only been at school for close to two months, and I can already feel myself slipping back into the mentality I was in before I tried to kill myself. I can already feel myself getting bad – there’s a feeling, you know? The feeling when you _know_ you’re starting to sink into depression, starting to get bad again, but you have absolutely no motivation or energy or strength to do anything about it. You don’t _want_ to get better – the only thing on your mind is a painful death. That’s the story of my fucking life – spending each day wishing it’s my last.

I know I sound selfish for that, and goddamn, I hate the way my mind works. I hate being so selfish – there are so many people in the world, terminally ill people, starving people, seriously wounded people…so many people that are facing death involuntarily, and here I am, begging for death to take me. Begging to be hit by a car, or for me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – I’m so fucked up, aren’t I? 

There are so many reasons I have for wanting to kill myself, but no normal person would understand any of them. Normal people cannot _fathom_ voluntarily ending their lives, and that’s great, that’s why they’re normal. I’m as far from normal as can be – all I can focus on at school is how much I want to die, how much I want to blow my goddamn brains out. I’m so fucking done.

I’m still living in fear – wondering what I fucked up, why Ray told me to stay away from Gerard. I must’ve done something wrong, for him to tell me to stay the actual fuck away. Well, those weren’t his actual words, but he looked serious and pissed and god what the fuck did I fuck up. 

I let my guard down, I stopped carefully planning what I did before I did it, and now I’m being told to stay away from the one person whom I think will understand me most. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have let my guard down – I shouldn’t have been so damn stupid and thought that I’d be able to be myself around these people. Everyone hates me, everyone judges me – there’s no one I can be my absolute self around, without having to worry about the aftermath.

That’s killing me.

I’ve gotten to the point where my wrists should be a goddamn mess. However, I don’t cut my wrists anymore. It was a close call, having Gerard catch me. If Mikey and Ray had seen my flinch, I would never hear the end of it. I need to strategize this more – cutting on my hips is perfect. It’s a place no one will check, and it’s so easy to cover up. It’s genius. 

I’m broken and I have no one and it hurts so badly. I cut because I need to cope somehow – losing Gerard, not talking to him, means I don’t talk to Ray, Bob, and Mikey as much. I can feel myself drifting away, farther and farther, faster and faster, until I’ll finally be completely isolated – and then, maybe then, Ray will realize what he did. It’s not his fault…I’m the one who fucked up…but I was happy. I thought I belonged. I thought people liked me.

I guess I was wrong.

…

“Frank, we’ve barely seen you! Where’ve you been?”

Arms wind around my waist, and I feel myself being pressed into a firm chest. Too skinny to be Gerard, Ray, or Bob, so it has to be Mikey. I hug him back hesitantly, waiting as he pulls away and tilts his head up to look at me. “You okay? You look like death warmed over.”

“M’good,” I mutter. “Just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

That seems to placate Mikey. He nods thoughtfully. “Can I talk to you, alone? I need to tell you about something…”

My heart starts to race – ‘can I talk to you’ is one of the worst phrases you can say to a person who has bad anxiety. It elicits a wave of panic, and then they start recalling the last few weeks, wondering what they’ve done wrong, how they’ve fucked up, and hoping they won’t get screamed at. It’s horrible.

“Y-Yeah…” I force out, hoping my hoarse voice doesn’t give away the obvious fear. Mikey leads me to a corner of the cafeteria, and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking up at me. I’m terrified of what he’s going to say. Is he going to call me out and tell me to stay away from Gerard, like Ray did? Or is he going to call me a dick and tell me to never talk to any of them again? The suspense is fucking killing me.

“I wanted to thank you,” Mikey says softly. 

“Thank me?” I ask incredulously. “For what?”

Mikey smiles ruefully. “Did you know, that these past couple months have been Gerard’s best in years? Ever since you came into our lives, he’s been talking more, _smiling_ more, and he’s actually returning to his old self…before we found out about his depression and shit. Bits and pieces of the old Gerard are coming back, and you’ve made that possible. So I wanted to thank you.”

Taken aback, I look at him warily for a few moments, wondering if he’s genuine, or if I’m just being punk’d. The small smile on his face is thoughtful, and his eyes are serious. He’s shuffling his feet, looking almost nervous. He can’t be lying – no one is _this_ good a liar. 

“I didn’t really do anything…” I shrug, trailing off. I thought I was a _bad_ influence on Gerard, isn’t that why Ray told me to stay away? I’m so fucking confused.

“You did,” he replies. “You’ve made him feel less alone. You’re someone who understands what he’s going through, and he needs someone like that. I’m so glad he has you in his life – he needs someone to understand, someone to be able to pick him back up when Ray, Bob, and I can’t. There’s only so much we can do…only so much we know, but you, you know how it feels. You know how bad it hurts. You can truly sympathize with him. So thank you, for giving him the feeling that he isn’t alone, the feeling that he has someone.”

“You’re…you’re welcome, I guess…” I mumble. “It’s not that I’m specifically trying to be there for him or understand him or some shit like that. I have issues, a lot of them, and he has the same ones. We’re not as informed. You and he have something that none of us have with him…I see the way you look at him, Frank.”

I stare at him. “What? I look at him like a normal person would…”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “You look at him with the most loving, caring eyes I’ve ever seen. You’re falling for my brother, Frank. And it’s okay, I think you’d be really good together – you’re good for him. As long as you don’t hurt him, you’ll be fine.”

“Whoa, hang on.” I put my hands out in front of me, stopping him. “No one said anything about me having a crush on Gerard. I’m not even _gay_! What’s this all about? Where’s it coming from?”

“You’re not gay…?” It’s Mikey’s turn to stare, and he does, looking me up and down. I feel like I’m being scrutinized. Is my sexuality really that surprising? I didn’t know it was that damn shocking.

“I like girls, Mikey,” I reply. “Always have. I don’t know where you and Ray are getting this notion that I have feelings for Gerard, because I don’t. He’s a friend, a good friend, but just a friend.”

“Are you sure you’re not even bi? Have you ever thought about a relationship with a guy?”

I have to hold back laughter at this. Why is this so hard for him to understand? I’m so fucking confused – why is me liking girls and not boys such a big deal to him? He looks like I just killed his puppy or something. It’s not like I don’t _support_ gay people, because I support the entire LGBT+ community, but I’m not apart of it. “I’m not gay, Mikey. Simple as that. I am _not_ gay.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so late, I've been really busy with school, especially with the end of the year coming closer and finals coming up. I'll try to post the next chapter quicker, I promise. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter's kinda heavily triggering with suicide, self-harm, depression, and mention of eating disorders, so be careful. Enjoy.

Gerard POV

Mikey continues to pace back and forth in front of my bed, his hands clasped behind his back. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, as he continually faces me, opening his mouth, before snapping it shut and turning back to pacing. He obviously has something to tell me, but he’s clamming up every time he tries to open his mouth and let the damn words out. Whatever it is, it must be pretty shitty. 

“He’s not gay, Gee. Not even bi, he likes girls…”

My heart clenches with pain, the agony wrapping itself around me and squeezing as tight as possible, suffocating. The numbness is real; I can’t feel anything except how much it hurts to know that I will never have a chance to be with the one person who seems to understand me more than anyone else, almost as much as I understand myself. I won’t have someone who can understand that there are days I just don’t want to get out of bed. 

“Gee…”

I ignore Mikey’s pleas for me to look at him, focusing on my lap, blinking furiously to keep the stinging tears away. I don’t know how I thought I could deal with rejection – this hurts. This is fucking agony. I don’t know how _anyone_ can deal with rejection as bad as this. It hurts so bad to know that the one guy I want to be with will never love me for things I can’t change.

“Gee, listen. You don’t know what can happen in the next few days. Frank could have a change of mind, he could be thinking about it, he could be questioning. You don’t know what’s going to happen, so don’t worry…”

I lift my left hand up in front of us, and Mikey sighs when he sees how badly my hand is shaking. He leans forward and pulls me against his chest, my body stiff against his own. I try to pull away, but his hold is tight and firm. Normally, I’d cave and sink into his comfort, letting him hold me, but tonight, I’m just not in the fucking mood for that. I don’t want comfort. I want to wallow in self-depreciation and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Quite frankly, I’d like to jump off a roof or down my entire bottle of anti-depressants, but I don’t think either of those options are likely right now.

“Mikey, leave me alone,” I protest, pushing him away and backing against my pillows, closing my eyes. “I want to be alone.”

“Gerard, no,” Mikey says firmly. “Not when you’re like this, no way in fucking hell.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “I just want to listen to music and draw. Please go, Mikey.”

“I just want you to be okay, Gee,” Mikey replies softly, looking at me sadly. “You’ve been through so much shit, you deserve to be okay. You deserve to be at the point where nothing hurts – where you can breathe and not have to spend your days wishing that each was your last. I just want you to feel like you can talk to me, because you can. I don’t mind, I’m here to listen. You’re my brother, I love you, and I can’t lose you…”

My heart aches with the agony that I’ve put him through. He’s only fifteen, and he’s been forced to grow up so much faster than he should’ve, just because of me. He’s fucking fifteen years old, he should be worrying about the latest sports teams and the pop quiz he might be slammed with tomorrow, not whether his older brother is going to kill himself or not. It’s not fair, Mikey doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Honestly. I’m fine.”

…

I’m so fucking confused. 

First Ray asked if I was gay, now Mikey. What’s the whole issue with me not being gay? I mean, it’s not something that I could label myself as in the span of one day. Being able to call myself gay would involve countless hours of thinking and pondering and wondering if that is actually what I am. 

As far as I know, I like girls. I always have liked girls, and I’m pretty sure that I always will like girls. There’s never been a doubt in my mind about that, so why the fuck are Mikey and Ray doubting me when I tell them that? They must not be getting the right answer…they want me to be gay? Why the fuck would they want that?

I don’t really see why it matters so much…it’s so weird. I’m confused and stressed and exhausted and the combination is lethal. I can’t stop worrying about them leaving me, because I’m not gay and they probably all are and I won’t fit in anymore and it’ll be weird and fuck I’m so fucking stupid. The fact that I actually let myself believe I belonged somewhere is honestly stupid. I don’t belong there. I don’t belong anywhere.

I thought I finally had friends who were just like me. I thought I finally had four people who understood me, and could see through my lies and fake smiles. I guess I was wrong. I don’t know why I deluded myself into thinking I’d have people to care about me and be there for me. I’m the idiotic, ignorant one. I’m the one who gets my hopes up, and then falls into depression when they’re crushed. That’s my fault – my fault for having faith in anything anymore. Nothing will ever work out – why bother trying anymore? It’s no use. I’m not destined to succeed. The only thing I’ll succeed in is ending my pathetic life.

The blade sinks into my flesh easily – the pain isn’t foreign in the least – not even after being almost a week clean. I don’t know why I bother trying to quit anymore, at this point, I’m way too goddamn far gone for that. I’ve started to rely on a blade, it’s horrendous, and goddammit, I wish I wasn’t this fucked up, but I am.

The fear of them finding out about the mental hospital is always there, burning deep at the back of my mind, gnawing at my nerves painfully. They can’t find out. I’m done for if they do. If they find out, they’ll want nothing to do with me. After all, who wants to hang out with the village mess? They all have their own problems to deal with, having mine on top of that is just more work that no one wants to be burdened with.

It’s so easy to lie. You just have to say the right thing and act the right way, and people believe you instantly, like it’s nothing. As long as you act right and tell people what they wanna hear, no one will ever know how fucked up you really are. That’s how I lied my way out of the mental hospital. However, I’d lost so much weight from starving myself, that my weekly weigh-ins weren’t matching my story, so I couldn’t get out until they did.

Being in the mental hospital was torture and bliss, at the same time. It was torture because of all the restrictions – no sharp objects, no electronics, nothing. We weren’t allowed to shave, there were to be no strings on our hoodies, shoes, nothing like that. No baths were allowed, only showers. It was so restrictive, but it took away the stress that is regular life. That was the good part.

I met some pretty nice guys in there as well. The most common misconception people have about fucked up people is that they’re crazy. There was a bipolar guy, Pete, and he was one of the kindest guys I’ve ever known. Patrick, who struggled with bulimia, he was the shyest and sweetest guy I’ve ever met. His girlfriend, Kyra, she was amazing too. She had self-harm issues, depression, ADHD, anxiety, and I believe she was pretty suicidal? Either way, she was really nice…everyone there was amazing. 

Coming out of there, and back to this hell…I just…I just wish that didn’t have to happen. I wish I could be homeschooled, or do online school…this hellhole is making everything so much worse. I hate school – I don’t hate learning, I love learning new things, but I hate the school system and I fucking hate school. School is stress and deadlines and agony and it’s just everything that I’m not ready for.

I don’t know if I can keep going if I lose Gerard, Mikey, Ray, and Bob. I don’t know how to navigate through a school full of people who hate me, with no one by my side to share my pain and tell me they’re fucking morons. My worst fear is being abandoned – at this rate, it’s going to come true…and god, I don’t think I’ll survive that. Being alone…walking alone…it’s terrifying. I can’t do it again.

This is one of the times I seriously wish I could’ve succeeded when I tried to kill myself last year.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's more on the darker side...a lot of it is basically my thoughts, in Frank's perspective. Trigger warning for depression, suicide, and self-harm.

Gerard is fucking pissed at me. 

That’s what I can gather from seeing him the next day. He glares, narrowing his eyes, and makes a show of turning to his sketchbook and ignoring me completely. I have no idea what I’ve done wrong, but it must be big. I must’ve fucked up quite a goddamn lot, for him to hate me this much. He doesn’t even want to look at me or acknowledge my goddamn presence. 

“Frankie? You okay?”

I whirl around, finding myself faced with the younger Way brother. At least he doesn’t take after Gerard, in terms of seeming to despise my existence today.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mutter. “Life’s been pretty shitty, I keep zoning out.”

Mikey winds an arm around my shoulders and pushes me to sit down between Ray and Bob. “Rest your head on my shoulder, if you want,” he offers. I press into his side, appreciating the warmth. “Do you wanna talk about anything? You don’t have to tell us what’s going on, but it might help.”

“It’s just…everything,” I sigh. “It’s all becoming too much. Depression’s really been kicking my ass…I just don’t want to exist anymore. And living and breathing is actually so goddamn painful…I don’t want to do it anymore. I really hate being here.”

That piques Gerard’s interest – his eyes join the other three pairs, scrutinizing. 

“Frankie…” Mikey hugs me tighter, resting his head on top of mine. 

“You can’t think like that,” Ray says gently. “I know it’s hard, and I know it fucking sucks to want to die so fucking bad, but this is only temporary. You and Mikey only have two more years of hell, and then you guys are graduating and all of us can leave this shitty town and live our lives the way we want to.”

“It’s hard,” I repeat. “So fucking hard. And I don’t know how long I can go on for…there’s a lot of shit that you guys don’t know about me, but trust me, I’m a lot more far gone than you think I am.”

Just as I finish my sentence, Gerard slams his sketchbook shut and shoves it into his bag. He hefts the bag over his shoulder and storms out of the cafeteria loudly, leaving me to squeeze my eyes shut and wonder why I’m still alive to fuck things up.

…

Gerard POV

“Ignoring him and pretending he doesn’t exist isn’t going to help anything, Gerard.”

Ray glares at me angrily, his arms crossed over his chest. “I get that you don’t want to interact with him because you’ve already fallen for him and you don’t want to get yourself in any deeper, but he’s a fucking mess right now. He wants to seriously kill himself, and you’re making it so obvious that you hate him. You’ve been there before, you know how damaging it can be to know someone hates you for no goddamn reason.”

“He’s strong, he’ll deal with it. After all, my opinion shouldn’t be that much of an issue. I don’t really talk at all, I blend in, half the time. He won’t even know I’m with you guys.”

“That doesn’t help!” Ray stares at me in disbelief. “You’ve said it yourself, you two understand each other like none of us do. We can’t help you as well as you can help each other. He needs someone right now, Gee. I know it’s going to hurt you…but look at the kid. He’s fucking miserable.”

I know Ray’s right. 

Especially since Frank’s still cutting. Ray, Bob, and Mikey don’t even know about that. His sleeves are pulled over his hands, hiding any trace of it. He seems very suspicious and self-conscious, always bringing his arms close to his body and glancing at his surroundings suspiciously.

He’s definitely suffering, and goddamn, I wish I could help him without hurting myself in the process. I’ve stopped cutting a bit ago, but the urge is still really bad, and if I don’t be careful, I’ll relapse, and relapse badly.

“I’ll talk to him,” I sigh. “But I just…”

“It’ll be okay, Gee,” Ray replies. “He just needs someone, really fucking bad right now, and you’re the only person who can understand what he’s going through. Sure, Mikey, Bob, and I can reassure him and tell him he’s okay and not alone in this, but that only goes so far. Coming from you, from someone who _knows_ , someone who’s been in that situation…it means a lot more.”

“I know…”

“Normally, I wouldn’t ask you to do something like this, but…we’re in danger of losing him, Gee. We’re so close to losing him, and god…that can’t happen again.”

I swallow hard. “I…I know…”

…

How fucking pathetic is it to sit in the bathroom during lunch, with a razor pressed to your wrist and tears streaking your cheeks?

I just hope that no one comes in here – if that happens, I’m _fucked._ I can’t let anyone find out about this…they’ll send me right back to the mental hospital, and I can’t go back there. I can’t go back there, not after what happened, just before I left. I promised myself, when I left, that I wouldn’t show my face there ever again.

I’m so fucking pathetic – I don’t know why everyone’s so damn insistent on keeping me on this goddamn Earth. I’m just a waste of a life – why would it even matter if I was gone? Why would it fucking matter? No one would miss me. No one would fucking care. And if anyone did, I’d probably be forgotten in a millisecond. I’m not that important.

“Give me that.”

My head snaps up, panic rushing through my veins and flooding my body. Fuckfuckfuck. 

“Frank, hey, it’s just me.” Gerard forces me to look at him, trying to calm me down. “It’s alright, I promise.”

“Why are you here?” I whisper, when I’ve managed to get my breathing back to normal. “I thought you wanted to drop kick me off the face of this Earth.”

“Why the hell would you think that? I don’t hate you, Frank.” He moves to sit beside me, plucking the blade from my fingertips. I try to reach for it in protest, but he shakes his head, slipping it into his pocket and facing me. “Forget the blade. You don’t need it.”

“I fucking do,” I growl. “And maybe because you’ve been acting like I don’t exist, like I’m not important. Thanks for fucking proving what I think about myself.”

Gerard sighs. “That was just…that was me being a dick, Frank. That’s not your fault. I can be an ass at times, that was one of those times. But seriously, I’m telling you, you don’t need to do this to yourself.”

“Says the person I caught fucking cutting,” I shoot back. “Goddamn hypocritical, aren’t we?”

“So if I blew my brains out, you’d do the same?”

“Probably.” He opens his mouth to retaliate, but I continue. “Not because you did it, but because blowing my brains out is all I want to do anymore, and I’d do it any goddamn chance I got.”

“Jesus,” Gerard mutters. “You’re almost as bad as I am.”

“You know _nothing_ ,” I hiss. “Don’t just fucking assume that you’re the only one in a dark place, and no one is as dark as you are, because you’re fucking wrong.”

“Frank, I’m sorry…I’m really trying here, I’m not good at this sort of thing…”

“They sent you, didn’t they?” I whisper, in realization. “You don’t care about me. I could fucking shoot myself, right here, right now, and you wouldn’t give a flying fuck. They sent you here and you’re only here to make them happy, so that you can walk out this door later and say that you’re the only reason I’m still fucking alive. It’s not that fucking easy. You’re a real fucking asshole, you know? I don’t even know why I wanted to be friends with you – you obviously don’t give a damn about me, so why should your friendship matter so much to me?”

“Frank-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me. I don’t want to hear your fake ass bullshit about how I’d be missed and how I’m loved and all of that. I know that. I’ve heard it enough. And knowing you, you wouldn’t even mean it anyway. You’d probably be happy if I died. Less of a burden on you. You could get back to your normal ass life, before I even fucking entered the picture. I’m right, aren’t I? Tell me, Gerard, tell me I’m fucking right.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty dark again, sorry. Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicide, depression, and anxiety. Also - some of the things Frank says in this chapter are highly controversial and could be taken offensively - understand that I mean no offense to any of the people he condemns - I'm just writing his character the way I believe he would feel, in this situational. This story is fictional - none of the things in the story are completely true.

I kinda feel bad for yelling at Gerard.

I left him speechless on the bathroom floor, and came back into the lunch room, curling myself into Bob’s side, and resting my head on his shoulder.

“You okay, Frank?” He reaches around to wrap an arm around my shoulders. I nod wordlessly, curling further into him. I would’ve gone to Mikey or Ray, but I imagine they won’t be very happy with me, when Gerard tells them what I said.

“Where’s Gerard?” Mikey asks, his voice almost sounding accusing. I hope Gerard hasn’t already said something…I’m so fucked. “He _did_ come and talk to you, right?”

“Yeah, I think he’s still in the bathroom,” I reply shakily, trying not to make the fear evident. I know I fucked up, but they don’t, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as I can. 

I glance down at my lap, sliding my phone out of my pocket and absentmindedly unlock it, checking random things, trying to distract myself. I don’t want to think about the future – moreso what’s going to happen tomorrow – Gerard will have definitely told them all about how much of a horrible person I am by then.

Speak of the fucking devil. When I look up again, I find myself face to face with Gerard. He must’ve just came, because Mikey scoots over to him and presses into his side, letting his head drop down to rest on Gerard’s shoulder. He leans up to whisper something into his brother’s ear, to which Gerard nods. 

“Frankie, you gonna eat?” Ray asks gently. 

I turn my head to look at him. “I’m not hungry, it’s okay. And we only have ten minutes left – I don’t have the time to get something, even if I wanted to.”

Ray sighs. “Alright…just make sure you eat something after you get home, _please_. Don’t starve yourself – you don’t want to do that to your body.”

“I’m not starving myself,” I mutter. “Just not hungry.”

…

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even trust myself to help my mom in the kitchen, because it deals with knives. 

The veins on my wrist stand out prominently – blue and dark against pale skin. An advantage when I get blood drawn or something, but to my mind – that is just more for me to think about. I spend a lot of time staring at the blue, wondering how it would feel to slice right through it, _knowing_ I’ve hit vein. Would death have come any easier, if I had done that when I tried last year?

I cut straight down – I read online that cutting straight down causes you to lose more blood quicker, and effectively reduces the time people have to save you. Obviously, I didn’t do it deep enough, because I was saved. Waking up in the hospital was one of the worst feelings in my life – I hate it more than anything. Knowing I couldn’t even _kill_ myself correctly…I can’t fucking do anything right.

The combination of pills and blood loss was enough to fuck me up enough to be in a coma for over a week. My body needed time to recover from the intense trauma put to it, they said. I woke up weak, groggy, confused…and I remember pain. I still – to this day – can’t really figure out whether it was physical or mental, but it fucking _hurt_.

They had to pump my stomach – any later, they said, and the pills would’ve compromised my internal organs and caused irreversible damage. Ironically, I wish that _would’ve_ happened. Better yet, I wish the pills had caused death. Not many people wake up from a suicide attempt grateful to be alive. I was definitely not part of that minority.

When you commit suicide, or at least _try to,_ in my case, you have the full intention of dying. There are some weak ass people that just do it to try and solve a problem – like, they’ve fucked up some part of their life, and then they just try and jump off a bridge to solve that. I’ve read the reports – every single one of them figured out how to pull their shit together halfway down, and they were _grateful_ to be saved.

You’re not really suicidal if that’s your mindset. Suicidal people just want to _die_. They’ve been through so much shit, they’ve been raked over the coals multiple times, they just want to _end it_. They’re so sad and so depressed and so _done_ , that nothing in the world could satisfy them as much as death could. Death is all they think about – morbid thoughts clouding their judgment and impairing them completely. Focus is lost – all they care about anymore is not existing, and to be honest, I find it really sad.

The world is so fucking fucked up that some people have to come to that point, and goddamn, why hasn’t someone done anything about it? That’s probably why we think no one cares about us. You hear about people trying to waste money in every place possible, for things we want but really don’t need, and you also hear about multiple deaths to suicide, every _day_. Why hasn’t someone realized the severity of this issue? How many more people have to die for it to become important enough to educate people on?

Being a teenager is fucking difficult. And not for the reasons they say it is – not because of all those stupid ass hormones and emotions and that bullshit. Being a teenager is fucking difficult because there are so many people who are so desperate for your demise. Not just students, adults as well. So many people just _waiting_ for you to fail, so they can laugh about it and use the opportunity to call themselves better than you.

High school is all about cliques. That’s all it is. There’s the popular kids, the jocks, the cheerleaders, the pretty girls – the ones who are as shallow as the three feet end of a swimming pool. Then there’s the nerds and the geeks, the techy people, etc – the ones who are somewhat okay, not completely terrible but not completely amazing. And finally, there’s the emos, the rejects, the misfits, the outcasts – basically the people who are so different and feel like they belong absolutely nowhere. They’re so different, they’re alienated for it, and they spend their entire high school career begging to go. Go away, get out, or even cease to fucking exist. 

…

“Frank, we gotta talk.”

Fuck. There it is.

The lump in my throat grows, my already blurry vision only becoming more distorted. I can feel myself shaking, trembling hard, a mess of nerves. My heart is racing, beating so fast and loud, it feels like everyone in the hallway can hear it. I’m going to fucking panic.

Despite my inner breakdown, I manage to nod to Ray, and he leads me into the South cafeteria, over to a corner. We sit down, and I look at him invitingly, shoving my hands further into my pockets to stop them from shaking. I’m a fucking mess. 

“I need you to talk to me, Frankie. We’re worried about you.”

There it- wait, _what_? I thought he was here to chew me out for screaming at Gerard – this makes no sense. Why isn’t he yelling? If this is his way of letting me down easy, then it’s only serving to escalate my anxiety to its highest point.

“Why?” I manage, my words garbled and choked.

“Because of what you’ve said…what you told us earlier. Suicide is really serious, Frank. And if you’re seriously considering it, then we’ve got a damn right to be worried. We just want you to be okay. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Why would it matter? I’ve only known you guys a few months – you can’t have grown that attached to me in so little time. It wouldn’t even matter.”

When Ray speaks next, his words are firm. “We _would_ miss you. Yeah, it’s only been a few months, but that’s enough time to attach yourself to a person. That’s enough time to get emotionally attached – that’s enough time to completely change your life for someone. If you died, Frankie, none of us would be able to get over it, especially Gerard.”

I snort. “Gerard doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. He’d probably be glad if I was gone.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Frank. Gerard cares so much for you – he’s just really shy, and you’ve made it clear that you’ll never care that much about him, so he’s trying to distance himself to protect his heart. That aside, trust me when I say this, and _please_ believe me – we would miss you so fucking much if you died, and our lives would _never_ be the same. You changed everything, Frank. And dying on us now isn’t an option.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry these updates are taking so long, school's been kicking my ass. I should be done in less than two weeks, and updates will be more frequent. Trigger warning for self-harm, depression, and possibilities of suicidal thoughts.

Gerard POV

I hate Frank Anthony Iero.

As if developing a small crush on him wasn’t bad enough, I think I may actually be falling in love with him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was gay, even bisexual – but no, the kid is straight as a pencil. I have no chance, and the impending heartbreak is already murderous. I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it, disintegrate it so I never have to feel anything anymore. I hate emotions – I don’t know what dumbass decided how bad we feel after certain things happen, but if I ever meet him, he’s not gonna come out alive.

It’s kinda funny, for me, the guy everyone in the school is scared of, to develop a crush on the new kid. Seems like it should be the other way around, shouldn’t it? Frank should be crushing on me, and I should be all broken and closed off emotionally? The second part is true – I _am_ broken, and my emotions have faded profusely. I don’t feel half of what I felt a few years ago.

My past is full of scars – scars that lead to memories, memories I would rather die than face. I don’t want to face my past at all – I’m running, _sprinting_ , as fast and far away from it as possible. I hate the idea of one day having to tell Frank _why_ I’m so fucked up. I’ve already grown attached to the shorter guy, there’s no telling how he’ll react, and the threat of him leaving is too much for me to bear.

What makes everything worse is how broken _he_ is. Nevermind how shattered I am, at least I can control my suicidal ideations. Frank can’t. He’s so suicidal, and it’s so easy to see in his eyes. It’s so obvious that he’d rather be six feet under. It’s so obvious that he doesn’t want to breathe anymore, he doesn’t want to exist. The scary part of all of that is that I’ve felt it before, so I know how bad it hurts, and how devastating the pain is. Knowing that the guy I might be in love with is going through that pain…that’s a hard pill to swallow. 

I just want Frank to be okay. I want to hug him and protect him from the fucked up reality that is our world. I know that he’d never let me near him, though – he _hates_ me. If he didn’t make that clear enough by his words in the bathroom, his blatant ignorance and avoidance of me seals it. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t know whether that’s something I’ll be able to live with.

Basically, all of this is just fear of admitting our real feelings, because of reactions. That’s half the reason why 90% of the drama in the world exists. It’s just because people are too scared to confront; too scared to realize their feelings and put them out in the open. And it’s hard – wearing your heart on your sleeve is a feat of bravery – it’s so easy for it to get broken. I know I’d never want to do something like that. My heart is guarded – barricaded by walls, walls that somehow, Frank Anthony Iero has managed to shatter. 

And he doesn’t even know it.

…

Frank POV

“You feel any better today, Frank?”

I shrug, resting my head on my arms. “I’m exhausted. S’too fucking early.”

Mikey takes a large sip from the cup in his hand, swallowing with a smile. “Coffee. My only vice left. If I don’t have coffee, I can’t function. Gee’s even worse. He fucking relies on it. Otherwise he’s an absolute dick.”

Gerard says nothing, only reaching over to thump his brother in the back of his head. Mikey winces and glares at him, to which Gerard sips his own coffee and smirks.

“I’ve never really tried coffee…” As soon as I say that, Mikey shoves his cup into my hand, looking at me expectantly.

“Try it,” he urges. “You won’t regret it.”

I take a sip, and all I can taste is bitter. I really don’t like this – the taste is actually really fucking bitter and I don’t get how Gerard and Mikey are drinking it like it’s sweet nectar, begging for more.

“It’s bitter as hell,” I mutter.

“That’s because Mikey doesn’t put enough cream or sugar into his,” Gerard speaks up. “Try mine.” He pushes his cup over to me, and I look at it hesitantly, before grabbing it and taking a sip.

This tastes much bitter. A lot sweeter, but there’s still some bitter tangs that make my tongue curl in disgust. I push the cup back over to Gerard. “Better, but it’s still kinda bitter…”

“You just gotta develop a taste,” Gerard replies, taking another sip. “Trust me, caffeine is one drug you _want_ to get addicted to. You won’t regret it. Stay up until four? Two cups of coffee should be enough to tide you through. It’s a fix, especially if you’re sleep-deprived.”

“Or you people are just crazy.” I roll my eyes. “It can’t be that addicting.”

“It is,” Gerard replies. “ _Very_ addicting. It’s a drug. Just like heroin or coke, only not nearly as bad. There’s so many people who are dependent on it.”

“Coffee is my only vice left,” Mikey mutters. “Otherwise, I’d be slicing myself up like ham.”

…

Gerard POV

“Mike, come on, we’re ditching study hall, and you’re coming to talk to me.”

Mikey barely glances at me, nodding. We’ve done this before – luckily, we were blessed with study hall at the same time, and we ditch often, sitting in either the bathroom or the courtyard and just talking. It’s our time, and it’s private – no one else knows about it, therefore no one else can infringe on it.

“What’d you wanna talk about, Gee?” Mikey asks, as he follows me into the bathroom. He leans against the back wall, hands in his pockets, not facing me.

“What you said earlier,” I reply. “Are you… Do you want to hurt yourself, Mike?”

Mikey freezes where he is, hands stilling in his pockets. He doesn’t look at me, bending his head to stare down at his feet. 

“Sometimes.” His voice is low, almost inaudible. “Sometimes, it just gets to be too much.”

“Fucking hell, why didn’t you _tell_ me?” I ask desperately, placing my hands on his shoulders and turning him around. He’s rail thin – it’s easy. 

“You’re already dealin’ with enough shit, Gee,” Mikey says roughly. “Didn’t think you needed my crap to add to your pile.”

“ _God_ , Mikey, _no_.” I shake my head, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re my little brother – it’s my job to take care of you and protect you. If you’re not okay, I wanna know about it. You shouldn’t have to hide shit like this from me. From mom and dad, too. They probably know nothing, do they?”

“They think I’m just quiet. Naturally quiet. And I am. But it’s so much fuckin’ worse than that, Gee,” Mikey says softly. “I’m so much fuckin’ worse off than they think.”

“You should seriously tell me these things, Mike.” I hug him tightly, threading my hand through his hair. “You know I’ve been through this shit, I could’ve helped you.”

“I didn’t _want_ your help!” Mikey exclaims, pulling away from me. “I didn’t want to be the weakass little bitch that cries to his big brother every time someone makes him feel like shit. I’m fine. I can fucking handle it on my own. This is why I never wanted you to find out. I’ve handed it for years, I can handle it until I graduate.”

“What happens after you graduate?”

Mikey lifts his head to look at me. “Death. If I make it that far, that is. I may end it before then, who knows?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self-harm, mention of anxiety, and depression.

“Your birthday’s in a week, Frankie. What do you wanna do?”

I glance at Ray, shaking my head. “Nothing. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday, guys. It’s just a normal day for me – nothing special. Please don’t do anything.”

“It’s Halloween, and it’s your _birthday_ , Frank. Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday.” Ray looks at me suspiciously, his eyes raking me up and down. “Why do you hate your birthday so much? You weren’t pleased about it when you told us about it, either.”

“Shitty memories I don’t want to talk about.” I look down at my lap, inching my sleeve up slightly, under the table, and letting my sharp fingernails start to scratch at a patch of bare skin. If I can’t cut right now, I’ll have to settle for scratching. 

“Frank…”

“Drop it, please,” I mutter. “I don’t want to talk about my birthday. I really fucking wish I didn’t even have one, at this point…so please, drop it.”

“Listen to him, guys. He’s obviously having some really bad memories and flashbacks.” A small hand snakes toward my right wrist, pulling my left one away from it. Gerard looks at me, giving a tiny shake of his head.

“Sorry,” Ray says, not looking sorry at all. “I get that you’ve had some bad memories in the past, but that’s over now. Your birthday should be a day where you feel special. You have some bad memories, and we can help you get over them, but the only way for you to do that is to try and move on. If you live in the past forever, you’ll never be able to enjoy the day you came into the Earth – I know you want to leave the Earth now, but the day you were brought here should still be cherished and celebrated. It still would be, even if you were dead.”

…

“Frank, hey, um, you okay?”

“Don’t you hate me now?” I whisper, burying my head in my knees. The bathroom is disgusting and the floor is even worse – but I need to be alone, and I couldn’t find any other place to be by myself. 

“I don’t hate you, Frank,” Gerard says softly. “I never have. I’m sorry, if I’ve been a dick and been ignoring you and all that shit. I didn’t intend to…I just have shit going on, and things with you complicated it a bit more.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” I mutter. “But it’s really me who should be saying sorry. I blew up at you, that day in the bathroom. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Frank.” Gerard glances at me, and we share a look for a few moments. “You meant every word, and it’s okay – you were right and I deserved it. I’ve been treating you like shit recently – you’re not supposed to just stand there and take it. You fought back, and I’m glad you did.”

“So now what? We’re good?”

“We’re good, Frank.” 

“One less thing for my anxiety to kill me over.” I laugh bitterly, tilting my head against the wall. Pulling my sleeve up again, I scratch, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to hurt.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? And why are you not practicing what you preach? You’re cutting too.”

“I’m trying to stop,” Gerard replies. “And just because I am, doesn’t mean you should. You don’t need to hurt yourself, Frank. Trust me, it’s more pain than it’s worth – and more than you deserve.”

“Then why do you deserve it?” I look at him, and he sighs, dropping his head. 

“Because I’m so fucked up that I’m a lost cause. It doesn’t matter what I do to my body – I’m not gonna be alive long enough to care.”

“So why are you throwing a hissy fit because I’m doing it? How do you know I’m not at the same point you are, or farther?”

“I don’t,” Gerard says softly. “I want to be someone you can trust, but I don’t think I am. I want to know what happened to you, what broke you, but I understand if you’re not willing to tell me yet. I want to help you, Frank – you have to believe me.”

“Why didn’t you care before?”

“It’s not that I didn’t care, Frank…I just…” Gerard sighs. “I’m gay. And you’re not. Put the pieces together.”

…

Gerard likes me.

 _Gerard_ likes _me_. 

Holy fucking shit.

It makes sense now.

All the times Ray and Mikey asked about my sexuality – all the times they were upset about me not even being bi. They knew. Gerard likes me, and I’m straight, so he knew he had no chance with me. That’s why he was distancing himself. That’s why he acted like a dick. It wasn’t because he hated me…it was because he likes me, and I don’t reciprocate his feelings. Holy fucking shit.

I’ve never had someone like me before. I’ve never had someone genuinely avoid me because of their uncontrollable feelings toward me. I always thought I’d have to chase someone – that no one would ever love me because I’m unloveable. I still kinda believe it – it’s hard to process the fact that Gerard likes me. I mean, why would he? What do I have to give to him? I’m just a broken, damaged, fucked up mess that’ll trigger him and burden him and make him wish he’d never told me his true feelings.

It’s out in the open now – he can’t take it back – even though it seems like he wants to. I don’t want him to regret falling for me. I’m not going to tell him I like him too, because the thought hasn’t occurred to me – not before this. If I decide to be with him – if I decide I’m bisexual – it’ll be after hours of thinking – not after me taking pity on him because of the unrequited love. That’s a recipe for disaster and Gerard doesn’t deserve to be put through that. 

I just never expected something like this – I’m not sure how to react. I don’t even know if I like guys. It’s all so weird to me – this confession has turned my world upside down, and I just need time to figure it out. I feel so fucking terrible for Gerard, though. I’ve been in his position before, with a girl, and it fucking sucks. Unrequited love is the worst feeling in the world. 

This decision is gonna take a lot of thinking – a lot of reevaluating, and a lot of wondering whether I am who I thought I am, or a completely different person.

…

I’m trying not to make this awkward, but it’s not easy when Gerard avoids my glances and turns his face away every time I try and look at him.

“Gerard, listen…” I sigh. “I don’t want shit to be awkward – it’ll be weird for the other guys and weird for us, too. Can we just be normal? I’m still processing and digesting this whole thing – and it doesn’t make me want to abandon you – not in the least. I want to try the whole friend thing…”

“If that’s what you want…” Gerard mumbles. “I would understand, if you didn’t ever want to talk to me again. I would, if the guy who liked me came up to me and told me, knowing I was straight.”

“Good thing you and I are two very different people then, huh?” I force a smile, sitting down next to him. “We don’t have to talk about this, y’know. I don’t mind being around you – I hope you feel comfortable around me, though. Knowing I don’t reciprocate your feelings…though that could change.”

“Please,” Gerard says desperately, turning to look at me. “Please don’t change your sexuality for me. I’m not worth that. Don’t tell me that you weren’t thinking about it until I told you, and then change it now. You should change it because of the way you feel, not because you were just told that one of your stupid ass friends has a stupid ass crush on you. I’m not worth it.”

“You’re right. You’re worth so much more than that, Gerard. And I want to be as faithful to you as possible – I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t like you back, not right now, at least. I’ve always thought I could be different – not the normal heterosexual guy. This period of evaluation was coming eventually, and sure, you’ve speeded up the process, but I don’t consider it a bad thing. I want you to be happy, Gerard. And if you’ll be happy with me, well…I’ll get back to you after I reevaluate my feelings, and we can see where we land and possibly test the waters.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicide, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Be careful, guys. And the next chapter is gonna be pretty graphic and extremely triggering, so I'd be cautious from here onward. It's gonna get worse before it gets better.

The doorbell rings, and I groan, as the sound startles me out of what was once a peaceful sleep. After what feels like two seconds, there’s knocking on my door, and I sigh, turning over in bed and putting my pillow over my head. “Fuck off, it’s too goddamn early,” I grumble.

“Frank, honey, Mikey is here to see you. He says it’s important and that it can’t wait until school. I’m gonna send him in, okay?”

I sigh, pulling myself out of bed, to sit sleepily on the edge of my mattress. “Go ahead,” I mumble.

The door opens, and Mikey enters, a serious look on his face. He’s got a beanie pulled over his hair and his glasses are kinda askew – I don’t think he had an easy time getting up so early, either. What the hell could he possibly want at 6 in the morning?

“What the hell do you want? It’s 6 am!” I glare at him, trying to suppress a yawn.

“It wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me to get up this early either, you’re not alone there.” He takes a seat next to me, sighing.

“What’s this about, Mikey? What couldn’t wait an hour until school?”

Mikey exhales, closing his eyes. “Gerard cuts – he relapsed. Although I’m pretty sure you already knew that – he told me you walked in on him a couple weeks ago, and that he said he’d kill you if you told.”

Thoughts of sleep are gone, my mind actually starting to turn on as I become more awake. “Yeah…sorry for not telling you, I just…”

“That’s not what I’m here about, Frank.” Mikey turns to look me in the eye, and I can see tears burning in his. This must be serious – what the _fuck_ is going on? “The state I found Gerard in last night…he’d cut so deeply we almost had to rush him to hospital. If the blood hadn’t stopped, we would’ve. Luckily, just bandaging his arms and letting him sleep was enough. But before he fell asleep, he told me what happened between you two. He told me that he told you how he feels about you, and you told him that you’d take a while, sort out your feelings, and talk to him about it once you’ve done that. I applaud you on that – that’s so much better, rather just confessing something you didn’t feel to make him feel better.”

“Oh my god…” I whisper, fully awake now. “Yeah…I didn’t want to hurt him by lying and telling him I loved him back, but…shit…I can’t help but think this is my fault, fuck…”

“It’s not,” Mikey replies. “He was adamant about that. The entire time I was bandaging his arms, he kept on telling me it wasn’t your fault, that you didn’t do anything wrong, and you didn’t do anything wrong, he’s right. The reason I’m here is to warn you.”

“Warn me?” I look at him, confused. “Warn me about what?”

“Gerard is more fucked up than you think, Frank,” Mikey says gravely. “This isn’t the first time I’ve found him like this, and it will most definitely not be the last. He has issues. A lot of issues. Issues that make him who he is – but at the same time – destroy him and whoever he gets close to. In other words, once you’re in, you can’t get out. And if you do – if you try to get out after making him love you and attach himself to you emotionally, you are going to break him, and I will come after you and it will not be pretty.” He sighs. “I hate to threaten you – I doubt you’d ever hurt him, but I’m his brother before I’m your friend. I will always be Gerard’s brother before anyone’s friend – and if you hurt my brother, you’re not only gonna have to deal with me, but you’re gonna have to deal with Ray and Bob, and when you get on their bad side…you better fuckin’ run for your life.”

Chilled by his words, I only manage to nod slightly. “I…I’ve said it before. I won’t hurt him. I just want time to evaluate my feelings, so I don’t hurt him. I know he’s fucked up, and trust me, I could probably match him, in terms of how goddamn fucked up we are. There’s still a lot you guys don’t know…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Shit you don’t _want_ to know, shit I’m not really ready to talk about…it’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do. It’s just me trying to protect myself…”

“And that’s okay,” Mikey says gently. “Gee does the same thing. It’s a coping mechanism and a protective mechanism and it’s _okay_. You don’t have to feel obligated to tell us _anything_ , Frank. We’re your friends, we’re not here to hurt you. If you do want to talk about what happened to you, that’d be awesome…we could help you better, if you did, but not wanting to is one hundred percent okay. It takes time, I know. And one day, you may be able to tell us everything, just like Gee will tell you everything. But it does take time.”

I sigh. “I just…fuck, I’m so hesitant about this, because if something does happen, between Gerard and me, no matter whose fault it is, you three will take his side. You’ve grown up with him, you’ve known him better…you’re his people. You’ll take his side, and I’ll have no one, and it’ll just…it’ll actually kill me, Mikey. And I don’t know whether I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Hey.” Mikey grabs my hand and squeezes. “We’re not stupid. Gerard isn’t some perfect angel that can do no wrong. If something happens between the two of you, we’ll get both sides of the story, and _then_ decide who we want to side with, if we side with either of you. For all you know, both of you could be being dicks and all we’d want is for you to pull your shit together. But one thing’s for sure – we’re not gonna leave you and take Gerard’s side if something happens between you, and you shouldn’t have to worry about that. You’ve become one of us now. And you’ll be treated just the same as he is. So Frank, as long as you don’t hurt Gee, then we’re good. You don’t have to worry. Promise.”

…

Walking into school an hour later feels much calmer than it would’ve if Mikey and I hadn’t had our talk.

“What’d he say to you?” 

I glance up, smiling as Gerard glares at his brother darkly. My gaze shifts to his wrists, and I can feel pain in my chest when I see tips of thick gauze and bandages poking out from underneath his black sweatshirt. Gerard catches my gaze and sighs. “He told you what happened, didn’t he?”

I nod, blinking furiously to rid of the tears in my eyes. Gerard sees this, getting up and lunging forward to hug me. The feeling is strange – I’ve never been hugged by him before, and it’s so oddly comforting. His embrace feels so safe and warm, like heaven, almost. He rubs my back gently, and I let my arms wind around his waist “I’m fine, okay? No matter what Mikey said, I’m fine. You don’t have to cry for me. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

I pull away, swiping angrily at my teary eyes. “You did it…because of me.”

“I did it because I couldn’t cope with the pain of the torture my mind wrought upon me,” Gerard corrects. “Not because of you. You taking time to sort out your feelings, as not to hurt me, is not the reason I did this. It’s not you, Frankie. It’s okay.”

I smile weakly, and he turns to sit back down, patting the spot next to him. I slide in to the seat, and watch as he picks up his pencil again, returning to drawing while listening to the conversation Ray, Bob, and Mikey are having. 

“So, Frankie,” Ray says, glancing at me. “Bob and I were thinking we go to like, an amusement park or something, for your birthday? Anywhere you want. Just somewhere cool.”

“No,” I mutter. “I don’t want to celebrate it, Ray. I really don’t. We can order pizza and watch horror movies all night. That’s it.”

“But Frank…” Ray sighs. “I get that you had a shitty birthday last year, and I’m sorry about it, but…we need to create some new memories, you know? Do something nice, make it so that your birthday is something you want more than a root canal, because right now, it seems like you’d rather have the latter.”

“I would,” I reply. “I fucking would. A root canal sounds so much better than my shitty ass goddamn birthday.”

Ray’s expression grows surprised, like he didn’t expect that answer. I wish he’d just shut the fuck up about my goddamn birthday. It’s fucking stupid and I fucking hate it…I regret telling them when it is, to be honest.

“And you wanna know why?” I press on, not sure where I’m going with this but too filled with anger to stop talking. “Because I spent my last goddamn motherfucking birthday in a fuckin’ mental hospital. And almost fuckin’ killed myself. And for fuck’s sakes, I wish I’d cut deep enough for it to fuckin’ _work_.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy trigger warning for self-harm, suicide, eating disorders, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Be careful, please.

I get stares.

And to be honest, I was expecting it. 

Even Gerard is staring at me with wide eyes, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. 

“Frank…” Gerard chokes out, and I can see tears in his eyes. “What…?”

I swallow hard, trying to force past the lump in my throat and keep my voice from shaking. “I guess this is the part where I tell you about my past.”

None of them move, and I sigh. This is gonna be a lot harder than it looks. Fuck, why did I get myself into this? I’m so fucked. 

“I…when I told you I was new here…that was a lie,” I begin, my voice wavering as panic builds in my chest, causing me to shake visibly. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I’ve grown up here. Last year…I came to school here for about a month, before I tried to kill myself.” 

Taking a deep breath, I try my best to compose myself, before plowing on. “I tried to kill myself. I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, slit my wrists, and used vodka to wash down the pills. I missed death by only a couple minutes. So my parents put me into a mental hospital.”

“It was nice there. Simple. There was still torture – my wrists were wrapped 24/7, they had no sharp things around…we couldn’t even have shoelaces or strings on our sweatshirts. No phones, either. Visiting days were once a month, and I dreaded those. It hurt like hell to see the fucking agony I was putting my parents through. They force fed me, too. Wouldn’t let me leave the cafeteria until I choked down an entire meal, then had a nurse follow me back to my room to make sure I didn’t purge it. I was released in the middle of August, and then I came back to school. I wanted to start fresh, but you can never really escape your past.”

I take a breath, still staring at my shoes. “I’m a recovering self-harmer and anorexic. I’m still suicidal, still depressed, and I have social and general anxiety disorder. They thought I was schizophrenic at one point, and they also thought I was bipolar. I’m so fucked up that living is a struggle. So Gerard, whenever you or any of you guys, for that matter, talk about how fucked up you are, it’s a sickening thought that I’m proud that I can probably match you, in terms of how fucked up we are.”

“Fucking hell, Frank…” Gerard shakes his head, looking up at me with sad, tear-filled eyes. “I had no idea…I swear, if I’d known…”

“I didn’t want you to,” I say simply. “I wanted to leave the past behind. But it isn’t that easy. I’m sorry…I freak out a lot and I have a lot of panic attacks and I’m jumpy when people raise their voices and lift their hands up at me because I’ve had people lift their hands up and then proceed to smack me in the face and break my ribs. I flinch when someone raises their voice because the amount of times I’ve been yelled at can rival the amount of cuts on my wrists and thighs. I’m a mess and I know it. I just hope that you won’t leave me because of it. I finally feel like I belong…”

“Frank, stop.” Gerard kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Look at me, Frankie. Come on, please.”

When my eyes meet his, he continues. “Listen. What you’ve been through is really fucking shitty, and I’m so sorry for that, but believe me when I say that we will never leave you. You’re stuck with us. We don’t abandon people. And no one fuckin’ cares that you have a shitty past – I have one too, as you know, and it doesn’t bother these guys. We don’t judge. So you can relax, okay? Everything will be fine. I promise.”

…

I sigh, leaning against Gerard and letting my head fall onto his shoulder. He looks down, smiling at me. He’s been really sweet, ever since my confession. He’s allowed me to curl against him and lean on him, which is a first. The only other person I’ve seen him do that with is Mikey, which is to be expected, they’re brothers. This is new territory for me, although I really do like the comforting, nurturing side of Gerard.

“Hey, you tired?”

I nod, letting my eyes drift shut in place of a vocal response.

“You can sleep,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we have to go.”

It isn’t long before I’m asleep, exhausted by the weight of the day and unable to keep my grip on consciousness for much longer. I barely feel Gerard shift my body a bit so his arm is free, and that’s the last thing I remember, before I’m thrust into dreamland.

…

Gerard POV

“Still can’t fuckin’ believe what happened to him…” Bob mutters, resting his chin in his hand. “I don’t even know how to respond to that. Like, he’s been through so fuckin’ much, no wonder he’s been off and on clingy, panicky and shit.”

“I hate myself for how much of a dick I was to him,” I sigh. “It wasn’t fair, and he was right; I _didn’t_ know what he was dealing with. He’s been trying to do his best to not piss me off, and I just…I was an ass.”

“You were hurting, it isn’t your fault,” Mikey whispers, his voice still hoarse from the crying. His bloodshot eyes come to rest on Frank, and I can see more tears well up. “I just can’t believe…”

Mikey broke down, after hearing what happened. He’s a very sensitive and emotional guy, and he’d formed a real connection with Frank. It wasn’t easy hearing the graphic details about how he tried to kill himself and what he went through at the mental hospital.

I glance at Ray, and receive a nod, as he brings Mikey in against him, wrapping his arm around my brother’s skinny shoulders.

“What happens now?” Ray asks softly, looking from Frank to me. “What do we do?”

“Nothing,” I reply. “This doesn’t change anything. It _shouldn’t_ change anything. Take it from someone who’s as fucked up as Frank, special treatment makes us feel like shit. We want to be treated like everyone else, we want to fit in. He doesn’t want us coddling him or rolling up his sleeves every five seconds, he just wants us to be there for him as friends, to let him vent when he needs it, and to be his rock when he needs people to lean on. That’s it.”

“So basically, what we do with you, we do with him?” 

I sigh. “He’s a lot more fragile. I can tell that he’s not gonna be okay around us for a bit, because of what he said. He thinks we’re forming judgments – you might think that’s crazy, but to the mind of someone who ha anxiety, every living thing is judging you in some way, even the people you think you can trust. It’s a horrible way to live, and god, I fuckin’ hate that he has to live like that.”

“What _about_ the cutting, though?” Bob interrupts. “If we don’t think about it, it’s not like it goes away. For all we know, he could be laughing and smiling with us at school, and then going home and slitting his wrists because of how crappy he feels inside.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I reply. “The rest of you, _don’t_ ask him about it. The more he gets asked, the more pressured he feels, and the more he feels like we’re smothering him, which will lead to a breakdown. That’s why we want to avoid it at all costs.” 

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Mikey speaks up again, his face taking on a childlike innocence that hasn’t been there in years. It shatters my heart. I reach across the table and grab his hand. 

“We’re gonna be fine, Mikey. We’re all gonna be fine. Fucked up in every way possible, but that’s okay. We’ll be okay.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for panic attacks, mentions of depression, anorexia, and possible suicidal thoughts. Enjoy.

I wake to a migraine.

A pounding headache wreaking havoc on my skull, making me dizzy and allowing me to wonder why I even got up in the first place. Blinking, I pry my eyes open and look around at my surroundings. I’m not in my room. This is unfamiliar.

“Frankie, hey, you’re okay.”

Gerard’s voice.

This must be his room.

The memories of the recent events come thudding back, making my heart race even faster, and that’s when I start to panic. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable. They know my darkest secret – the thing I’ve been trying to hide every since I met them. I feel so fucking exposed. 

“Shit, Frank.” My vision is blurry and I can barely focus on the person in front of me, unable to distinguish who it is. I can barely focus on breathing, at this point. Trying to breath right now is like trying to breathe with a rhino on your chest – it’s never gonna happen. I just hope I suffocate fast.

“Hey, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. You need to try and slow your breathing down, okay? I need you to try and breathe for me, Frankie. You’re okay. Everything is okay. Just focus on your breathing.”

I suck in air too fast and it backfires, sending me into a coughing fit and making my chest hurt. Oh god. This feels like death – I feel like I’m dying. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking breathe properly, how pathetic is that? How pathetic am I?

The coughs die down soon, and I’m left panting, a hand on my chest as I try to force air in and out of my lungs. Gerard is coaching me softly, whispering undistinguishable words into my ear and rubbing my back in small circles. It’s helping. My vision is starting to clear, and I have some semblance of breath now. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to panic attacks. The feeling like you’re literally about to die is always going to be foreign, no matter how many of them I have.

“There you go, you’re okay,” Gerard murmurs. “Thank god, Frankie. You scared the shit out of us – are you okay?”

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, managing a miniscule nod. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Ray says firmly. “You couldn’t have controlled that. It’s just good that Gee was able to calm you down easily. What happened, Frankie? What brought it on?”

“Ray…” Gerard warns, kneeling down to my level. 

“It’s okay,” I reply, as Gerard brings me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…knowing that you all know what happened…I kinda panicked. It’s hard. I feel so exposed and vulnerable and everything really just hurts. I told you guys…this happens a lot…it’s shitty, I know, and you don’t have to put up with it if you don’t want to…”

“Stop that,” Mikey cuts in, dropping to his knees as well. He grabs one of my hands and squeezes. “We love you. You’re one of us. Don’t put yourself down like that – we’d never leave you. We’ve made that clear, haven’t we?”

“The doubt, it’s always there,” I whisper. “When you’ve been abandoned as many times as I have, you don’t think you’re worth staying for anymore. I know I don’t. If so many people have left, what makes you guys so different? For all I know, you’re trying to make me as vulnerable as possible so you can pick a right time to pack up your shit and get the hell out of my life.”

“Hey, shhhh,” Gerard shushes, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, though,” I protest. “You know now. And I lied to you. Why would you wanna be friends with a liar?”

“You didn’t lie for your own personal gain, though,” Ray points out. “You lied to protect yourself. You lied to keep yourself safe. You lied to keep shit hidden that you weren’t ready to dig up. You lied for all the right reasons, so it’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over that.”

Sighing, I nod, letting myself relax against Gerard. “So, what, you guys are gonna wrap me in bubble wrap and write down my every move?”

“You’re not gonna be treated any differently,” Gerard answers. “I’ll make sure of it. We’re definitely gonna be gentler with you, but you’re not gonna be treated like you’re fragile and about to break. I know you’d hate that.”

I smile gratefully, nodding. “I’m not about to break and I’m not made of glass.”

“You’re okay, Frankie. You’re safe with us, you always have been and you always will be. Everything is okay.”

…

I got permission from my mom to stay overnight at Gerard and Mikey’s house – it is Halloween, after all, and the others agreed to my plan.

Watch horror movies and binge on pizza until we’re asleep. Good plan.

“You sure you’re okay with pizza?” Gerard whispers. “You said something about not wanting to eat…anorexia, right?”

“I’m recovering,” I reply. It’s nice that he did take the time to express his concern, make me feel included and wanted, like he cares about my needs. “I can eat it. It’s just…hard not to want to purge. Don’t let me get up, after I eat, okay?”

Gerard nods. “Anything else I can do to make you more confortable? It _is_ your birthday, and I know you hate celebrating, but we should at least treat you like a prince today.”

“Just movies and pizza. Maybe ice cream. That’s enough for me.”

“You’re not high maintenance, eh?”

“Not really.” I smile ruefully at him. “Gotten used to just going with it, there wasn’t much in the mental hospital. I learned to make do.”

“You’re allowed to want things, you know,” Gerard tells me seriously. “You’re allowed to want certain things, to have certain things you just _want_ , not need, want.”

“I know,” I reply softly. “Thank you, for all this. You’ve been amazing, Gee.” I stop at the nickname, looking at him curiously. “Can I call you that?”

“I call you Frankie,” Gerard says in justification. “So it wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t call me Gee.”

“Pizza’s here!” Bob calls from upstairs. Gerard pushes off the couch and holds out a hand to pull me up. He’s much bigger than me, in body build and in height. It’s both an advantage and a disadvantage.

“Let’s go have fun, okay? Forget about all the stress and bullshit. Tonight’s your night.”

…

“This is why these movies aren’t scary,” I say through a mouthful of popcorn, as one of the characters gets her head chopped off. “The characters are so _stupid_. Like, if I was in a horror movie, I definitely wouldn’t be so damn gullible.”

“That’s what makes them good to watch, though,” Gerard replies. “They’re hilarious.”

“You two are crazy,” Bob mutters. “This movie is scaring the living shit out of me.”

“It’s not even scary!” I protest, laughing as he throws a handful of popcorn at me. “Fuck off!”

“It’s scary enough! If this gives me nightmares, you’re the one I’m gonna blame.”

“Go ahead,” I laugh, as he shrieks when another idiot is killed. “These people don’t die because of these monsters, they die because of their own stupidity. Like, what kind of idiot is lured right into a killer’s trap? It’s not that hard to realize that someone’s fuckin’ with you. There’s not _that_ many coincidences in the world.”

“Did we put this on so you and Gee could spend your time wondering how stupid it is?” Ray grumbles. “I didn’t ask for the commentary.”

“You’ve watched movies with me for how long?” Gerard rolls his eyes. “You should know me by now.”

Popcorn is flung at him, and he grabs handfuls of his own, pelting the kernels at Ray.

“Mom’s gonna kill us, Gee, stop!” Mikey cries, just as he’s pelted with popcorn. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh come on, don’t be a party pooper,” Gerard replies. “Frankie’s having fun, and that’s the goal here.”

And that turns into an all out popcorn war. We’re completely destroying the Way’s living room, but I don’t think Gerard cares too much. And he’s right. This has been a pretty fucking awesome birthday. One of the best I’ve ever had, and such a far cry from last year.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wrote this really quick - I'm going on vacation tomorrow, I'll be back on the 12th, so you won't get a new chapter for at most ten days. I'll try to post the next one on the 13th or 14th, we'll see. This story's going to wind down soon - I don't think it'll be more than twenty chapters, but that could change, it depends. Anyway, trigger warning for depression, self-harm, panic attacks, and mentions of suicidal thoughts and anxiety.

The past few days have been the most stress free I’ve had in such a long time. I haven’t had to worry about much, besides the usual school stress. Hanging out with Gerard, Mikey, Ray, and Bob has been amazing. They don’t treat me like I’m glass, and in a way, I kinda feel closer to them.

Gerard and I have definitely grown closer. We’re almost as close as he is to Mikey, which is saying a lot. I don’t know why Gerard is suddenly so comfortable with me pressing inside or me sitting on his lap, especially considering his feelings for me, but he’s allowed me to get close to him, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it. I enjoy every moment I get to spend with my friends. 

These past few days have also given me time to explore my feelings and my sexuality. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. When both Ray and Mikey asked if I was gay or bi, I was so quick to deny their claims, not even thinking for a second that I _might_ be attracted to more than just girls, or not even girls at all. The quick shut down of both their claims…I’ve been thinking about it a lot. 

I don’t think I would’ve been so quick to shut down their claims, if I didn’t have reason to believe that their words might be true. And they’re starting to become true in my mind. I don’t think I’m full out gay – I still do like girls, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop imagining myself with one. However, the idea of being with a guy doesn’t seem so haunting or impossible anymore, especially realizing that being with a guy would make us even closer than being with a girl.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but the way I see it, if you’re with someone of your own gender and someone whose personality is very similar to yours, the closeness only grows, rather than if you’re a guy and a girl, because the two genders do have extreme differences on certain subjects. Tensions about certain things are alleviated, being with someone of the same gender.

I don’t think I ever imagined myself being anything but heterosexual, but the prospect of being bisexual seems so much more in line with what I am, at this point. Part of me doesn’t want to be limited to just girls, I want to have the chance to explore dating guys as well. I’m trying not to rush this, but I’m pretty eager to get out there and see what’s in store for me. 

And Gerard is, well, he’s indescribable. There’s so much to him, so much that I haven’t even discovered yet. He’s a person with a lot of layers, a lot he’s hiding, a lot of walls that have yet to be broken. He’s a very loving and caring person, he protects the ones he loves, and he stands up for what he believes in. He understands me. He’s quiet and shy and introverted and he understands exactly how I think. He’s perfect for me.

I’m not just saying it because he’s expressed feelings for me…now that I think about it…those feelings are hard not to share, because he is one of the best people I’ve ever met. He’s perfect for me. He knows me better than so many people, and he knows how to make me feel loved and needed. He already does it every day. I’d be stupid not to let him act on his feelings. 

…

“Gee? Can I talk to you, alone?”

Gerard looks at me curiously, causing Ray and Mikey to look up from their phones. He nods slightly, getting up from the table and following me into the bathroom. No one’s gonna bother us here, and it’s not like any teachers can be pissed at us for going into the bathroom.

“Remember when you told me you had feelings for me?” I ask softly, watching sadly as he closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face.

“Fuck, Frankie, why are you bringing that up? It’s stupid. I feel too much and it really doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter, Gerard,” I reply. “Your feelings are valid. I told you that I’d take some time and consider my feelings and whether I feel the same way or not, and then come back to you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You haven’t. Can we move on?” This is obviously a touchy subject for him – I can see him pulling at his sleeves and going to pinch at his wrist, wanting _some_ kind of pain because he’s so uncomfortable and his anxiety is probably sky high right now. I hate that he’s feeling that way because of me, but this has to be done.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been doing some thinking, and Gee…I think that I’m bi. And those feelings…I think I share them.”

Gerard freezes. 

He goes almost _white_ , skin paling and eyes going wide. His hands grip the counter firmly, knuckles almost turning white. 

“D-Don’t do this to me…” He manages to choke out the words, although they’re garbled and his voice is shaking.

“Do what?” I ask, trying to make my tone as gentle as possible. I hate doing this to him, but I just want him to feel better about the situation.

“Change for me. Pretend you’re attracted to guys and somehow that you’ve returned my feelings. It’s only been a week since I told you, Frank…”

“I don’t think I changed in a week, Gee, listen,” I reply. “Ray and Mikey have asked me about this before, and both times, I denied it so heavily that it seemed suspicious. I didn’t want to believe it. But it was always there.”

“Frank, please…my heart can’t take this…” Gerard whispers, and fuck, he’s crying. I didn’t mean to make him cry, that’s horrible, fuck. He’s crying and his breathing is fucked up and I know these signs all too well.

“Gee, hey, listen to me.” Ignoring my own racing heart, I place my hands on his shoulders and sink him to his knees, kneeling down in front of him. He swallows hard, sucking in air and then coughing when it’s too fast. 

“Listen to me,” I repeat. “You need to breathe. Just focus on that. Breathe. You’re okay, I promise. I’m right here, you’re safe, everything is okay.”

Gerard hiccups, coughing, almost choking, dry gagging loudly. I bring him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. I can feel him shaking in my arms, and god, it’s a horrible feeling. I think I’m really starting to get attached to him, and seeing him in pain is killing me.

After about five minutes, he begins to calm down, panting lightly against me. His head flops down onto my shoulder, and I hold him tighter, just rubbing his back, as he slows his breathing and tries to calm his rapidly racing heart.

“Think m’okay now.” His voice is hoarse and cracking, the tears obviously still evident.

“Just relax,” I murmur. “You scared me there, you asshole.”

“Sorry…s’just hard to believe anyone would ever love me…”

“It’s okay, don’t talk about that, don’t even think about that. We’ll talk about it later, but for right now, all you need to do is focus on relaxing. You just had a pretty bad panic attack. We’ll talk about that other shit later, but for right now, your mental health is much more important.”

…

When we get back to the table, Mikey takes one glance at his brother and looks immediately to me, gaze questioning.

“What the _hell_ happened?” His tone isn’t accusatory, but somewhat hard and cold. I get that. Gerard is still shaky, with bloodshot eyes from crying. He collapses back into his seat, grabbing hold of my wrist and pulling me with him. I sit down next to him, and address Mikey, just letting Gerard situate himself.

“He had a panic attack,” I reply softly, using the hand Gerard isn’t gripping to rub his back. “A pretty bad one.”

“What did you _say_ to him?” Mikey asks, his tone growing more accusatory by the second. “Why is he _shaking_?”

“S’not Frank’s fault. He was trying to tell me he might feel the same way,” Gerard rasps. “I panicked. Don’t yell at him, Mikey.”

Mikey’s face softens and he sends me an apologetic look, before coming over onto the other side of Gerard. He wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulders and whispers something to him, to which Gerard sighs and shakes his head.

“Sorry, I overreact sometimes,” Mikey says in explanation, looking up at me. “I just worry about him, like, a lot…”

“It’s okay. I can see where you’re coming from. If he was my brother, I’d be scared as hell too.”

Gerard grumbles and lets go of my wrist to punch me in the arm.

He leans close to me, just so he can whisper into my ear. “Come to mine after school. Just you. We’ll talk. I won’t panic this time, promise.”

“It’s okay if you do,” I reply softly. “I’ve had panic attacks in your company before. You can’t control them. They just happen.”

“Still,” Gerard insists. “Let’s talk. Come over. Please.”

“I will.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got back a few hours ago, but I had a bunch of ideas for this over my trip, and I just had to write them. Anyway, _heavy_ trigger warning for this chapter. It's Gerard's story, and it is graphic and gory and if you don't feel comfortable reading it, please message me on tumblr (theghostofashton I changed my URL), and ask for the condensed version. It's extremely triggering - warnings for graphic description of self-harm, depression, alcohol abuse, physical abuse, mentions of rape, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.

Gerard is waiting for me, after the last bell rings.

When I get to my locker, I find him there, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He glances up, pulling one of his earbuds out when he sees me. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“The bell _just_ rang,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him. I turn my combination into the lock, before pulling my locker door open, and beginning to grab and put away books. “I didn’t expect you to actually wait for me.”

“I ditched last period,” Gerard says nonchalantly. “And I really need to talk to you about something, so I thought I’d bring you to my house. Mikey and Bob are going to hang with Ray – I can’t do this if they’re all there too. Ray’ll bring Mikey by once we’re done.”

Whatever he has to tell me must be serious. The light-heartedness that previously resided in me is fading, replaced by worry and fear. I don’t think what I’m about to hear is going to be pretty, considering how worn out Gerard looks. Not like, physically tired, not the tired that sleep can fix – he looks haggard, like he’s been through a mental war, through hell and back.

I don’t think he ditched last period because he didn’t want to go to class – I think he ditched because he was too anxious and nervous and his mental state was too shitty for him to even worry about decimals and prime numbers. School may be priority for most, but in my book, mental health always presides. 

I slam my locker door shut, and heft my backpack over my shoulder, before turning to him. Gerard shoves his phone in the pocket of his sweatshirt and turns, falling into place beside me as we begin the journey out of the school.

We’re stared at.

I can see kids watching us like hawks, scrutinizing with judging eyes. They don’t know shit. If they did, if they could see into our minds, they’d be running for their lives. God, I wish I could give them a dose of the hell Gerard and I have to face every day. And it isn’t like we even get a choice in the matter. It’s so fucked up.

“They’re staring because you’re with me,” Gerard mutters lowly, only audible because I’m standing two inches away from him, and my own music isn’t on yet. I plug my earbuds into my phone, shoving the right one in, and put on my Misfits playlist, before addressing him.

“Let them stare,” I reply. “Let them stare until their eyes fall out or until they realize how damn rude and judgmental they’re being. I don’t give a fuck, and I doubt you do.”

“You don’t have to be seen with me,” Gerard tells me softly. “The kids here…they’re scared of me. Because of something I did almost two years ago. They flinch when they see me. They know not to argue with me. They don’t mess with me, and I don’t respond to any of their bullshit. But just because I take it, doesn’t mean you have to.”

“High school is motherfuckin’ hell for anyone who’s the least bit different. We’re the outcasts, the misfits, the ones who wish we were dead while the rest of the people are wishing for a good grade on a test or a project. We don’t belong here, Gee. We. I don’t belong just as much as you don’t. But I’d rather have you, Mikey, Ray, and Bob as genuine, real friends that I can lean on and talk to, than five thousand friends I only talk to because we go to this shithole that’s called school. So yeah, yeah people are gonna stare. They may trash my reputation. I don’t fuckin’ care. For people like us, high school is all about surviving. A shitty reputation isn’t gonna bring my chances of survival down. I want to be seen with you. I want to be someone they’re afraid of. I want this. So please, don’t worry about me. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable, and Gee, right now, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been in a while.”

…

Gerard takes me straight down to his room, and motions to his bed, where we both sit down. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs. “I don’t know how to start this…I just…there’s some things you need to know, before you start thinking you have feelings for me and shit. Before you dive in, you need to know what you’re getting into.”

It hurts my heart, to hear him talk about him like he’s a dangerous exhibit at the zoo. Whatever he’s about to tell me, his story, his past, whatever it is, none of it will change how I feel about him. I hate that he doesn’t see that. 

“Gee…” I whisper. “You don’t have to do this if it hurts you. My feelings for you won’t change once I hear what you have to say. If it’s too soon, it’s okay.”

“No,” Gerard says, refusing to meet my gaze. “You deserve to know, and not telling you is killing me.”

“If you’re sure…” I reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you’re going to say will change _nothing_ , I promise.” 

Gerard nods slightly and ducks away, swallowing hard. “I’m 18. Not 17. I was held back for a year.”

There’s obviously more, but I really hate where this is most likely going. “My parents divorced when I was 10,” Gerard says. “Mikey was 7. Our dad was getting drunk a lot and he just…he began to show signs of violence and possible abuse and my mom wanted to get out of there. The agreement for the divorce was that they’d each get a kid.” He heaves a shuddering sigh. “Mikey grew up living in fear of our father. He was always extremely intimidated by him. Never knew why. But that’s why I volunteered to stay with our dad, and Mikey went to live with our mom. Now, don’t get me wrong, my mom tried to fight for me. She fought tooth and nail, but because there was no evidence of my dad being abusive or violent toward us, the court granted him custody of me.”

“All the hunches, all the thoughts that he was abusive…they became reality, after the divorce,” Gerard continues. “At first, it was only when he was drunk. I used to pretend to be asleep when he came home wasted, so he wouldn’t do anything to me. Time passed. He got angrier and angrier, and the violent rages didn’t stop when the alcohol wore off. He blamed me for the divorce – said I influenced my mom and took his family away from him. He said I left him with a useless piece of shit…me. I don’t know why he took his rage out on me, but he never liked me…it was obvious, when I was growing up.”

Gerard looks like he’s about to crumble, and _god_ , I wish I could pull him into my arms and hug him tightly, but I know from experience that comfort, when you’re talking about a tragedy, is the worst thing anyone can offer. The courage you have to work up to talk about something like this is massive, and comfort tears all the foundation down. It’s just hard, knowing how much it hurts to talk about the past, and not being able to alleviate his pain.

“So he started beating me.” He can’t meet my eyes anymore – instead, he’s pulling up the left sleeve of his sweatshirt, and rubbing his right hand over the healing cuts. “It became a pattern. Wake up, make breakfast, hope he enjoyed it because I wouldn’t get hit if I liked what I made, go to school, come back, and then hell for the rest of the night. My grades were shit and I barely passed middle school.” He takes another deep breath. “High school…high school is where it all fell apart.”

“High school was when I realized I was gay- I am gay.” Gerard’s voice cracks, and the strength I’m gathering to restrain myself from comforting him is starting to dwindle. This is destroying him, and it’s agonizing to watch. “I don’t remember how he found out…either he read my internet history, or heard me talking about it on the phone with Mikey, but…he found out, and he was so fucking angry. He called me a faggot, a stupid sick ass queer, and made it his mission to drill into my head for the next few months that no one would ever love me.”

“Gee, I…”

Gerard holds up a hand and shakes his head. He gets off the bed and moves to stand in front of me, unzipping his hoodie and taking it off. This is the first time since I’ve met him, that I’ve seen him without that sweatshirt on, and _jesus_.

His arms are like tic tac toe boards of scars, criss-crossing in sick patterns all the way up his biceps. The fresh cuts are still bloody, and it makes my heart sink, seeing how many of them there are.

Gerard holds his left arm out, so the inside of his bicep is showing, and I gasp.

fr eak 

“He carved the first two letters, the night he found out…” His voice is trembling and I can see him shaking. The scar is raised against his skin, dark against the rest of the milky flesh. “And that was when I passed out from blood loss. He never finished it. So I did. A couple years ago, I finished the word. And I did this.” He switches arms, and I see the word ‘worthless’ etched into the skin of his right bicep.

I’m gonna be sick.

“I’m not gonna take off my shirt, but I carved ‘useless’ and ‘fat’ into my stomach a while back. And he stabbed me. A few times. There’s a shitton of scars from it. Scars from stitches. I walk with a slight limp because of the bones he broke that didn't heal right. The hospital became my second home, those years. Until I was 15, it was utter hell. My entire body is a reminder of what he's done. I can't escape him.”

Gerard drops his arm and sits back down on the edge of the bed. “My mom finally found out. I missed too much school freshman year – always in the hospital and everything, so I repeated it. That’s why I’m 18 and I’ll be 19 when I graduate. I’m not going to tell you what happened when he beat me and told me I was a mistake. But I am going to tell you that my first time was not consensual and my father is in jail for sexual assault and rape of a minor.” He stops after that, and I assume he's done, because when he looks up next, his face is shiny with tears. My heart is in unfixable pieces at this point. 

“Gee, I…I don’t know what to say…” I whisper. “I can’t…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Gerard replies, tears flooding his cheeks. “I just told you all of this so you can make an informed decision.”

“An informed decision?”

“On how you want to let me off when you tell me you faked having feelings for me. I hoped you’d let me off easy because of all of this…”

“Gerard, _no_!” I place both my hands on his shoulders and force him to look at me. “What the _fuck_ makes you think anything is gonna change, because of this? I’m pretty sure I _do_ have feelings for you, they’re not fake, and they won’t go away because of this. Gee, you’re not unlovable, and god, if your miserable motherfuckin’ excuse for a father wasn’t in jail right now, _I’d_ be in jail for killing him, and I’d be okay with it. This doesn’t change anything. I’m so fuckin’ glad you told me, I can help you now, but this doesn’t turn me off or make me not want to be with you.”

“There’s so much…I have so much baggage. I’m not okay. I have nightmares and I sleep sweat and I take so many pills to be even this level of sane. I’m damaged and fucked up and why would you want someone like that?”

“You’re talking to a guy that spent almost a year in a mental hospital,” I deadpan. “I know how you feel. I know how bad you feel. And how horrible it feels to realize how fucked up and damaged you are. I don’t care what happened in your past – that doesn’t change my opinion of you now. I want to help you, Gee, just like you want to help me. We’ll help each other. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, and you better get used to it, because you’re stuck with me. I am not leaving you.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're wrapping up soon, I'm afraid. Just a few chapters left. Anyway, this is the aftermath of the mess that was last chapter. Trigger warnings for self-harm, depression, suicide mentions, and panic attack mentions.

“So what does this make us?”

Gerard looks at me with hollow, broken eyes – his expression not ceasing to break my heart. He obviously still thinks I’m going to leave him – that he doesn’t deserve me, nor does he deserve to be loved. I hate that he feels that way. It’s a horrible feeling – I’ve felt it before, and I know how damaging it can be. I just want to hold him tight and remind him that he’ll be alright and he deserves to be loved.

“Boyfriends?” I wince when he seems to flinch away. “Listen, Gee…I’m not going to use you for anything. I want to be with you. I want to make you feel okay. I want to show you that you _do_ deserve love, and you _do_ deserve happiness, and who you are is okay. So please, trust me. Don’t be scared of me. I am _not_ going to hurt you.”

Gerard sighs. “S’just hard…I’ve fallen for you, Frankie, and I don’t want to turn this relationship we have into something horrible. I have a lot of issues and I’m a mess and it can be grueling on someone who _doesn’t_ have any mental disorders, let alone you, who’s been so bad that you’ve had to be institutionalized.”

“You’re not going to burden me, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I tell him gently. It’s really sweet that he cares so much about me, but he shouldn’t be putting himself behind me, in terms of needs. His needs are just as important and valid. _He_ is just as important and valid. 

“You can’t leave,” Gerard whispers, eyes wide and tone much more desperate. “You can’t do this, tell me you love me, and then leave at some point. You’re saying this now, this means you’re forced to stay. So if you wanna get out, now’s the time to do it. I get attached, Frankie, and I won’t survive you leaving me.”

…

It’s been about an hour since Gerard and I spoke. He’s curled against me, sleeping soundly, while I play with his hair and rub random circles on his back. I just can’t believe…it’s so hard to wrap my head around what happened to him. I kept my composure while he was talking, because I didn’t want to startle him, but now that he’s passed out, I can fully let my emotions take over. It’s agonizing, knowing that the boy in my arms has been through more than a lifetime’s worth of pain, in just his eighteen years on the planet. 

The worst things always happen to the best people. That statement couldn’t be more true. Gerard didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve the beatings, the verbal abuse, the _sexual_ abuse…he was _raped_. The worst part about it all is the amount of scarring on his body. He hasn’t put his sweatshirt back on, and his t-shirt’s rucked up a little, so I can see sickening scars on the soft skin of his stomach. I want nothing more than to pull his shirt up and see all the damage that his father has done, but that’d make him so uncomfortable and I can’t bear the thought. 

The scars will always remind him. He’ll always look at his body and be reminded of how he was essentially a motherfucking toy to his bastard of a father. Scars can heal, but they’ll never fade. They’re permanent reminders. 

“Gee? You down here?”

Mikey steps into the room, followed by Ray, both of them stopping short when they see our position.

“What the hell?”

I hold a finger to my lips. “He just fell asleep. Don’t wake him. Hang on.”

I slip out from Gerard gingerly, doing my best not to wake him. He whimpers when all of my body heat is gone, but doesn’t stir. 

“He told me. Everything.” I hope that explanation is enough for them, because I really don’t want to repeat what Gerard said. It’s still hard to stomach.

“Holy fuck…” Ray whispers. “Everything? Even the scars on his-”

“Biceps. Yeah, he showed me,” I mutter, dropping my gaze to the floor. 

“He hasn’t told _anyone_ …” Mikey says hollowly. “ _I_ told Ray and Bob. He couldn’t. He didn’t even testify to get the bastard behind bars – witnesses were enough. He refused. You’re the first one, Frank. Probably the only one. Don’t take that lightly.”

“I know.” Shuffling my feet, I think it may be better just to tell them the other thing. “Oh yeah, and we’re kinda dating…”

Mikey just stares at me.

“Finally,” Ray says in relief. “I thought the day would never come. I’m really fuckin’ happy for you guys, and Bob will be too, as soon as I tell him. Just…you know how fragile Gee is now, and if you hurt him, I’m gonna come after you.”

“If you hurt a hair on his body, you’re dead,” Mikey mutters. He usually doesn’t look the least bit threatening, but now, he looks like he could actually kill me. He’s extremely overprotective of Gerard, and it definitely shows.

“I’m not going to. The amount of pain he’s endured is enough for more than two lifetimes.”

“Good.” A shadow of a smile pokes out onto Mikey’s face. “I’m happy for you guys, really, I am. You’re good for him.”

…

Not even an hour later, I get a taste of what Gerard was talking about when he mentioned sleep sweats and nightmares. 

Mikey, Ray, and I are sitting and playing Xbox, when a muffled scream fills the room. It alarms me at first, but Mikey reacts immediately.

He pauses the game and gets up, motioning me to follow as he goes over to his brother’s bed. Gerard is mumbling and sweating and there are tears rolling down his face as he jerks around in the midst of sleep. It shatters my heart. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain from flashbacks, flashbacks he shouldn’t even be having. None of this should’ve ever happened.

“This is normal,” Mikey mutters. He leans over and shakes Gerard’s shoulder roughly, trying to startle him out of the nightmare.

It takes a few attempts, but Gerard finally stirs awake, looking around wildly. 

“It’s okay, Gee,” Mikey says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping an arm around his brother. “You’re okay. It’s not real. You’re safe.” He brings his other arm around to stroke Gerard’s hair. This is adorable, despite the circumstances. The comfort is definitely not a one way street. 

Gerard buries his head in his brother’s shoulder – I can hear him breathing heavily, trying to regain a sense of calm. All the while, Mikey is murmuring comfort in his ear, rubbing his back and holding him close.

By the time he manages to fully calm Gerard down, the older Way brother is exhausted. The entire freak out was caused by a nightmare, so he’s visibly fighting sleep, leaning against Mikey and yawning every few seconds, trying to fight the sleepiness.

“It’s okay,” I tell him softly, coming to sit on his other side. “You can sleep. I know that nightmares suck ass, but you shouldn’t deprive yourself of rest to evade them.”

“M’just scared,” Gerard mumbles. “Sorry. M’pathetic.”

“You’re not,” I reply firmly. “You have every reason in the world to have nightmares. Your feelings are valid. Everything’s okay, Gee.”

…

“That is what you’re getting yourself into,” Mikey says later. Gerard is showering, and Ray went home. I decided to stay the night – my parents really don’t mind. They seem to like Gerard, despite never having really met him. “This is frequent. And sometimes it’s really hard to wake him enough and calm him down. Sometimes the nightmares cause panic attacks. Sometimes he screams at you to leave him the fuck alone and turns to his blade. Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Are you going somewhere?”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “I’m his brother. But you’re his _boyfriend_. Slowly, he’ll grow closer and closer to you, and the role of calming him down and making sure he’s okay will fall solely on you. You need to be ready for that.”

“It can’t be that hard,” I reply. “I’ve seen a lot. That mental hospital wasn’t exactly the most sheltering place from the outside world. My roommate was schizophrenic. He woke up almost every night, screaming, waking me up and going on about things that were never really there. I handled it. I can do this. Don’t underestimate me, Mikey.”

“I’m not,” Mikey mumbles. “Taking care of Gerard is draining. Exhausting. It’s heavy. Extremely heavy. He’s nothing of a burden – but when you’re trying to keep a severely depressed, self-harming, suicidal person from hurting themselves, and you don’t succeed, it takes a toll on you. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve tried to wrestle a blade out of his hands, but he’s cut himself anyway. Half his hospital visits are from cutting too deep. It’s easy to feel guilty about this, Frank. About not being able to do enough for him. About trying my best to keep him from cutting, but then finding out he’s done it anyway.”

He sighs and rolls up his sleeve, the amount of fresh cuts and scars there making my stomach drop. “I didn’t have anything wrong with me when Gerard came back to my mom and me, almost three years ago, and after I started taking care of him, it took a toll on me. So I did the only thing I knew how to do.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then an epilogue. This is another heavy chapter - the second part of Frank's backstory. Heavy trigger warning for abusive relationships, eating disorders, self-harm, rape, panic attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts, and suicide attempts. This chapter is also entirely in Gerard's POV, just so you know. Enjoy.

Gerard POV

“Hey, Frankie?”

Frank shifts in my arms and turns his head to look at me. “Hm?”

“What happened to you?”

It’s an odd question – especially considering the room has been silent for almost an hour and I have no context to ask this question in. However, this question has been on my mind since Frank told us about being in the mental hospital; _what_ put him there. What fucked him up so badly, _who_ hurt him. Questions I’d like an answer to – I have the same amount of rage for whoever hurt him, that he has for my father. 

Frank sighs heavily. “It’s not important, Gee. Life happened. I wasn’t strong enough to handle it. I broke. Started cutting. The depression got worse. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s _not_ all there is to it, Frankie,” I tell him firmly, pushing him off my chest. I scoot around so I can sit in front of him, and take both his hands in mine. “You have a story. Everyone has a story, and they’re _all_ worth telling. Tell me your story, Frankie. I want to help you.”

Frank laughs bitterly. “You can’t help me, Gee. The mental hospital didn’t even help, and they’re trained _professionals_.”

I roll my eyes. “Trained professionals who went to school on how to help mentally ill patients, because I fuckin’ doubt any of them has been depressed a day in their lives. All the shit they’ve said is shit they’ve been told “helps” depressed or suicidal people. But you and I both know that that crap is fucking bullshit. You can’t properly help someone who’s depressed or suicidal, unless you’ve _been_ there before. And I have. I can guarantee you that I’ll be able to do so much more for you than that shitty ass institution.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to trigger you, Gee,” Frank mumbles, his eyes downcast. “M’so fucking stupid. What the hell was I thinking, getting into a relationship where I’m basically guaranteed to _trigger_ my own boyfriend. I’m horrible for you, Gee.”

“Hush.” I lift his chin and look him in the eye. “I’m just as, if not more likely to trigger you. So what? You get triggered, you have a shitty night, and then what? You move on. We have each other, Frankie. It’ll be okay.”

“I was in an abusive relationship,” Frank blurts out, shrinking back as soon as he does, as if he didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

I tilt my head and glance at him, waiting for him to continue. I feel bad, making him talk about this when he obviously doesn’t want to remember it exists, but there can’t be secrets. He’s not allowed to hurt alone anymore. If I’m left in the dark about this, he’s hurting alone, and it doesn’t work that way. Relationships are a two way street. 

“My first – and only – girlfriend was abusive,” Frank mutters. “And I don’t talk about it much, because it sounds so fuckin’ ridiculous. My _girlfriend_ abused me. Usually when you hear about abusive relationships on the news, it’s always the guys who are abusive. Abusive relationships where the girl is abusive are unheard of, and the ones that are known about, people talk down and call the guy a pussy and say that he’s lucky to get laid.”

“Frank, no…”

“She hit me,” Frank continues. “A lot. I was never a good enough boyfriend for her. But I could take the hitting. I was 13 and this was my first relationship and I assumed that was how it worked behind closed doors. What really got to me was the emotional abuse. The guilt trips. The emotional manipulation. She’d guilt me into buying her shit, guilt me into telling her that I was a horrible human being and she was perfect. She kept threatening to leave, and she’d made it so that I relied on her. Thing is, though, she never made me seem as important as her best friends or anything, like, I used to instigate everything – and half the time, she’d tell me she was busy and I’d realize she just ditched me. And I started thinking it was my fault. That’s when I started cutting.”

He swallows hard. “She was horrified when she found out. We were about to…do it…and I took off my shirt, forgetting the scars were there, and she saw it all.” He sighs heavily, shaking his head. “She was nicer, after that. But she gave me an ultimatum – the blade, or her. And it scared the shit out of me and broke me several times over. There were nights where I had panic attack after panic attack because I couldn’t cut and I needed to but she’d find out somehow and leave me.”

I’m seriously about to find this bitch and fucking rip the skin off her body. This is so disgusting and Frank _never_ should’ve been subjected to it. He didn’t deserve any of this. 

“My eating disorder stemmed from all the times she’d call me fat,” Frank whispers, a haunted and hollow look in his eyes. He’s looking at the floor, picking at threads on his sweatshirt. “She used to go on about how all her friends had boyfriends with great bodies and washboard abs and how I was just a flabby fatty. And sometimes she said she’d leave me if I gained any more weight, even a pound, so I started starving myself. I didn’t know it’d gotten so bad until I was passing out during a dinner with her and my parents. That’s when they realized how underweight I was.”

“Frank, it’s okay, you don’t have to go on…” I reach out and grab one of his hands, squeezing it hard. He looks so broken – I can’t bear to see any more of this. 

“I started, may as well finish,” Frank replies. “I never broke up with her. She left me, told me I was “too much work” and she didn’t want to deal with my mental health issues. And then I tried to kill myself and ended up in the loony bin. So there’s my sob story. I’m like this because of a girl. How fucking cliché and pathetic is that?”

“Come here.” I pull him into my lap and hug him tightly, rubbing his back as he tries to calm himself down. “You’re not pathetic. This isn’t pathetic. She _abused_ you. It’s not like she told you to fuck off one day, and you tried to kill yourself. She was emotionally and physically abusive.”

“And sexually abusive,” Frank chokes out. “She always wanted it. Even when I said no. She _made_ me. Even when I told her no. She said she’d tell the school I raped her, if I didn’t do it.”

“Holy fuck, Frankie…” I bring him in closer, pressing my lips to his hair. “No one is ever going to lay a _hand_ on you like that, ever again. I promise. I’m gonna keep you safe, baby. I promise I will.”

…

The night doesn’t go as well as I hope.

Frank has a couple panic attacks – the level of anxiety he has is so alarming, especially after he told me about his abusive ex. He seems like the type of person who doesn’t want anyone to know they’re hurting – they just want to suffer alone and cut themselves to help cope. I’m like that too, and I know how bad that mindset can get – I _hate_ that he’s suffering like this.

“So, school tomorrow,” Ray says, opening a can of Coke. “Your first day as a couple.”

“We got together on Friday,” I point out. “Tomorrow’s Monday. We’ve been a couple for three days.”

“Your first day of _school_ as a couple,” he amends. “Do you think you’re gonna get a lot of shit for it?”

“I’d hope people have realized that being gay is a very normal thing, and that homophobia is disgusting and _wrong_ ,” Frank says. “This generation is a lot more understanding than the generation before ours.”

“That’s true.” Ray nods thoughtfully. 

“If anyone’s a dick to you guys, I’ll kill ‘em,” Bob pipes up. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you both since we met you, Frank, and anyone who wants to shit on that is gonna get it from me.”

“You guys deserve to be happy,” Ray agrees. “And it’s fuckin’ awesome to see you that way.”

“I never really thought being happy would feel okay.” I reach over and pull Frank onto my lap again, smirking when Ray rolls his eyes at the PDA. “I never thought it’d feel good to be happy, but it kinda does. I’m not really all around happy, but I’m happy with Frank.”

“Yes, we all know how happy you two are,” Mikey says jokingly. “Can you go be happy in a room of your _own_?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, next one is the epilogue. Trigger warning for panic attacks, anxiety, and mentions of suicide and depression.

“I don’t know if I can do this…”

My heart is racing, thudding loudly in my chest, so loudly that I’m surprised Gerard can’t hear it, from how close I’m pressed to his side. My palms are sweaty and I can see my hands shaking visibly – we’re about to walk into the school for the first time as a couple, and the fear of backlash is too fucking real.

Normally, I don’t care what people think, but the horror stories I’ve heard about gay/bi/any non straight guys being beaten up and shoved into lockers and toilets…I’m fucking terrified.

“Frankie, hey, relax,” Gerard says, stopping short and coming around to stand in front of me. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Haven’t you heard what some jocks have done to gay guys at school?!” I exclaim, a stray tear running down my cheek. “They’re going to wipe the floor with us, Gee!”

“Hush,” Gerard says gently. “No one is going to lay a finger on you. That entire school is scared of me. Those kids all probably know what I did to someone who beat up Mikey when he was a freshman. That’s why they’re scared of me. And if they think I won’t turn on them with the same fury, if they _touch_ my boyfriend, they have another thing coming.”

“Gee, I…”

“No, listen. Everything is going to be fine, I promise. You’re not gonna get beaten up or called a faggot, because I’m going to be by your side every chance I get. They’ll figure out you’re not straight, but they’ll also figure out that you’re dating me, and anyone who messes with the people I love has some sort of death wish.”

I lean up and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He’s such an amazing person – kind and caring. The apple must fall really far from the tree – how can a bastard like his father even deserve such an angel for a son?

I pull away, and Gerard leans down to touch my lips against his shyly. Kissing him is nothing I ever imagined it’d be – it’s a million times better. He winds his arms around my waist, and I let my eyes drift shut, just enjoying this moment – I don’t think I’ve ever felt more safe in my entire fucking life, than I do right now.

We pull back, and I blink, as he looks at me with fear in his eyes. “Was that…was that okay? Did I rush it…?”

My heart breaks at his obvious insecurity. “No, it was perfect. It was absolutely perfect.”

He grins, taking my hand and squeezing, turning to fall into step beside me, as we continue our walk toward school. Sometimes he drives me, but other times, we walk. It’s not that far, and it’s our alone time.

“You’re sure it’ll be okay?”

“Promise, Frankie,” Gerard replies, squeezing my hand. “And I don’t break promises.”

…

I expect a lot of stares when we walk into school, and that’s just what happens.

The stares and whispers make me extremely uncomfortable, as Gerard and I walk down the hall. Kids are looking at us in shock – and possibly even disgust – their gazes mainly focused on our intertwined hands. 

Gerard’s pace increases, and we speedwalk down the hall, and he steers me into the corner bathroom. “Frankie,” he says gently, dropping my hand and kneeling down in front of me. “You’re shaking, babe.”

“I can’t breathe,” I whisper. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can, I believe in you,” Gerard replies, grabbing both my hands. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. I’m here for you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, but you need to trust me. Do you trust me?”

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek. Gerard reaches up and thumbs it away. “Good. Then trust that I’m going to take care of you, okay? This relationship is going to be nothing like your last one, baby. You need to believe me on that. I would never hurt you.”

“I want to be with you, Gee. I trust you. I know you’re nothing like her… I just…I don’t want to get hurt again – especially since gays deal with so much hate and abuse. I just…I can’t do this again, Gee.”

“Are you…breaking up with me…?” Gerard’s eyes fill with hurt and he drops my hands, staring at the ground.

“No.” I lift his chin and look him in the eye, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m just really scared and really nervous and it’s probably going to make me really annoying in the next few days. I’m warning you ahead of time.”

Gerard’s eyes soften. “It’s okay. Your first relationship was absolutely disgusting – what she did to you was so awful, Frank, it’s okay to be nervous. But I’m nothing like her. You know that. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

…

Gerard POV

Frank hasn’t shown up to lunch yet, and I’m worried as fuck.

We don’t walk together because our classes are on opposite sides of the building, but he’s usually here by the time I get here. It’s been five minutes since I got here and he’s nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t buy lunch, and if he was in the bathroom, he’d be back by now. 

I’m really fucking worried – I hope he’s okay. 

“Gee, you gotta come quickly!”

In one motion, Mikey dashes into the room, grabbing my arm and beginning to pull. I look at him oddly, then realizing this has to be about Frank. Immediately, I’m up, following Mikey out of the cafeteria, down multiple hallways, until I’m stopped short in my tracks.

Ray and Bob are kneeling beside Frank, and holy _shit_. His left eye is black, his lip is split, and there’s bruises everywhere.

“What the _fuck_ happened?!” I growl, kneeling down beside my boyfriend and tilting his chin up to look at him. “Frankie, baby, who did this to you?”

“Homophobes,” Frank mumbles. “Knew this would happen. Beat me up because you weren’t around to protect me, s’what they said.”

That sentence strikes a chord in my heart. Fucking hell. I wasn’t there, and now he’s bruised and beaten up and he looks like he just got into a fight.

This is all my fucking fault.

…

Frank POV

“Are you sure you’re okay, Frankie? You have so many bruises…”

Gerard looks absolutely horrified, pulling at his hair in frustration when he sees the results of what those stupid ass homophobic jocks did to me. 

“I’m fine, Gee,” I reply, pulling him down to sit on the bed next to me. We decided to ditch the rest of the day and go home early, and now we’re back at his house. “The bruises are just superficial – they’re sore but they’ll heal really soon. I’m okay, I promise.”

“You were right,” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. “I couldn’t protect you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Gee, hey, listen,” I reply. “You _did_ protect me. You couldn’t control this. Whenever you can, you protect me better than anyone ever has. It’s not like this was something you had a say in. You didn’t even know about it. I don’t blame you.”

“I said all that shit about how nothing would happen and you were safe and all of that, and then this happens. Exactly what I told you wouldn’t happen. I don’t blame you if you never trust me again.”

I sigh. “I do trust you, though. I trust you and I love you and you mean so much to me, Gee. People are gonna shit on us, who we are and what we stand for, but it’s up to us to put them out of our minds and focus on the fact that we’re happy together. And before any of this happened, both of us wanted nothing more than to die. And now we’re happy. Don’t you see how far we’ve come?”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts. We’re happy now. We’re happy together, we’re happy with each other, and nothing, not the homophobes at school, not your bastard of a dad, not my stupid ass ex-girlfriend, not our mental disorders, _nothing_ can take that away from us.”


	20. Epilogue

Gerard POV

“Gee, Frank’s here, but you better hurry the hell up and get ready! We have to leave for the school in twenty minutes!”

Graduation day.

The one day I fear more than anything – the day I’m no longer a high school student, no longer a brainwashed teenager that has a structured schedule in place for nine months out of the twelve. What I do after today is on me – there is no semblance of structure or routine. I’m on my own.

The thought is terrifying. 

“Gee, you okay?”

A pair of arms wind around my waist and Frank rests his head on my shoulder, turning his head to kiss my neck softly. I sigh, turning around and grabbing him in for a hug.

“I’m not ready for this,” I whisper. “I can’t graduate. The real world is terrifying. I’m not ready to face it on my own, Frankie, I’m not.”

“But you’re not on your own,” Frank replies. “You have your mom and Ray and Bob and Mikey and of course, me. We’re all here for you, Gee. You’re not alone.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna _do_ , Frank!” I exclaim, pushing him back and bringing both hands up to cover my face. I move over to sit down on my mattress. “I didn’t apply for college because I didn’t think I’d get in. My grades have been so shitty because I didn’t _care_ what would happen after high school; I didn’t think I’d be _alive_ to see it! But here I am, with no game plan, no idea what the fuck to do. I can’t graduate not knowing!”

Frank sighs, coming over to sit down next to me. “You were more focused on your mental health. And that’s a good thing. You’re in such a better place now, than you were when we started dating. That’s good. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over that.”

“But what am I gonna do?!” 

“For now, you’re going to put on the stupid ass cap and gown they’re forcing you to wear, and you’re gonna graduate like the fucking kickass motherfucker you are. The rest can be worried about later.”

“Frank, I-”

Frank rolls his eyes at me. “When I first met you, we’d be lucky if you said one sentence during an entire conversation. And now, I’m telling you to _shut up_. Shut the fuck up and stop stressing, because it’ll be fine. You’re graduating today. It’s a monumental day. Don’t ruin it by letting your depression and anxiety take control.”

… 

Frank POV 

“I’m gonna trip, I know it,” Gerard whines, shoving his clammy hand into mine. I take his hand and squeeze it, sighing. He’s been so nervous and panicky all day, and I hate that he’s feeling like this. His nerves are understandable, but I just wish he didn’t have to go through that. 

“You are not gonna trip, you dumbass,” Mikey mutters from behind us. “The amount of graduation practice you people have had is fuckin’ ridiculous. It’s like the school is guaranteeing that you won’t trip.” 

“Yeah, but he’s gonna have to walk across the stage while the entire audience is staring at him.” 

“Ray, shut the _fuck_ up!” Mikey hisses, as Gerard’s eyes widen. 

“I have to do it too, he’s not alone!” 

“You’re not the one with crippling anxiety, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you,” Mikey shoots back, shoving him. 

“Is Bob here yet?” I ask, scanning the crowd. “He said he’d meet us at 6:30.” 

“He’s on his way,” Ray tells me. “He texted me a few minutes ago.” 

“It starts in half an hour.” I squeeze Gerard’s hand, pressing closer to him. “You have another half hour, Gee, it’s gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah, half an hour until I become a high school graduate with no idea what the fuck to do with my life.” 

“You’ll be fine, babe.” I lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, trying to calm him down. We’re not usually big on PDA in public, but at times like these, kisses and touches are the only things that help. 

“You can only say that because you _know_ what you’re gonna be doing next year. I don’t.” 

… 

Gerard and Ray are sitting on stage, pretty close together, because there aren’t many people with last names starting with U or V. Gerard is fiddling with his hands, an agitated look on his face. From my seat in the audience, I can see him, but I doubt he can see me. It’s frustrating, because it’d be so easy to calm him down if I could just get him to make eye contact with me. 

The valedictorian is speaking, talking about their new lives and how their lives actually start now, all the fake ass bullshit they’re supposed to say. I’m not listening, and I doubt Gerard is. Trying to communicate with him through mind-reading is definitely not working – he hasn’t moved in five minutes. 

“Gee looks like he’s about to pass out,” Bob comments, making me grumble and slap his arm. 

“I know, but he won’t fuckin’ _look_ at me, so I can’t do anything.” 

“Why is this speech so goddamn boring?” Mikey mutters, holding back a yawn. “I swear to god, the clicheness of this fucking ceremony is killing me.” 

“That’ll be me next year, and you and Frank in two years,” Bob reminds him. 

“Shut up, I’m trying not to think about it.” 

“I’m trying to think about how I can get my goddamn boyfriend to look at me, so would you guys please focus on that and help me?!” I whisper yell, trying not to be too loud. 

“Boys, please, quiet down. Some people are interested in the speech,” Ms. Way scolds. 

I groan. “Gee looks terrible…he looks like he’s gonna fuckin’ faint.” 

She smiles weakly. “He’s never been good with crowds, as you know. He’ll be okay, as long as he doesn’t have to do any kind of talking.” 

“All he has to do is get up when his name is called, walk across the stage, shake the principal’s hand, and get his diploma. Simple.” 

“For you.” 

“Boys, please, people are starting to look at us.” 

I sigh, slumping back in my seat, just as Gerard finally looks over at me. 

Fucking _finally_. 

Sitting up, I look at him, trying to put on the most reassuring smile I can muster. He gives me a slight nod, but I can still see how visibly uncomfortable he looks. 

‘You’re okay,’ I mouth. I don’t know if he could even tell what I said, but it looks like it, because a shadow of a smile peeks onto his face and he nods again. 

The names are starting to be called, and the graduating class is pretty small, so they go through them pretty quickly. Before I know it, they’re up to the end of the alphabet. 

“Ray Toro.” 

A round of applause follows this, Bob, Mikey, Ms. Way, and Ray’s parents cheering the loudest. 

Ray walks across the stage and accepts his diploma, shaking our principal’s hand, before smiling at us and returning to his seat. 

The next series of names are called, and then I hear, “Gerard Way.”

The six of us cheer like we’ve never fucking cheered before, as Gerard stands shakily. His smile looks plastered and fake, and it’s easy to see him trembling as he stumbles across stage. He accepts the diploma with shaking hands, and when he shakes hands with our principal, the man leans in and whispers something into Gerard’s ear, eliciting a pretty big smile from my boyfriend. What could he have said? 

Nevertheless, the rest of it goes smoothly as Gerard returns to his seat, and soon enough, everything’s over. 

… 

“What did he say to you?” 

Before Gerard can answer, I kiss him hard, wrapping my arms around his waist, leaving basically no space between us. 

When we finally pull away, Gerard grins at me. “He said he was proud of me. He watched me grow up, and he’s proud of me. It’s really nice, to have someone who’s just been watching, tell me he’s proud of me. I feel validated. It’s fuckin’ amazing.” 

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” I reply, bringing him in for a hug. “I am so proud of you, you have no idea. I know I say it a lot, but really, you’ve done so well, Gee. I couldn’t be prouder.” 

… 

“So is it time to worry about not knowing what the hell I’m gonna do now yet?”

“No,” I reply. “Go down to your room. I’m gonna ask your mom something real quick.” 

Gerard looks at me suspiciously. “Frank, what’s going on?” 

“I just need to ask her something – my mom wanted to know something about a recipe she gave her. It’ll only take a second, Gee. Promise.” 

Gerard’s suspicious look remains as he descends down the basement steps. When he’s out of earshot, I turn to Ms. Way.

“Did you get the reply from them?” 

She nods, pulling an envelope from the pile of mail on the counter. “It came yesterday. They accepted him. They’re willing to fund a fourth of his tuition, and I have enough saved to pay the rest.” 

“I can’t believe this worked,” I whisper, as she hands me the envelope.

“Frank, you’ve always seemed like a good guy for Gee, but this, this surpasses everything I’ve ever thought about you. This was your idea. He’s going to art school because of you, Frank.” 

“I love him,” I reply. “He deserves this.” 

“He really does. Now go give him the good news.” 

… 

“So, here’s the thing.” 

Gerard glances from the envelope to my elated expression with suspicion in his eyes. “Frank, what is fuckin’ going on? What are you keeping from me?” 

“You’re about to see,” I reply. “So, a few months ago, I went to your mom and talked to her about your applications for schools. I know you didn’t apply, but there’s an art school about twenty miles from here. Granted, it’s not as good as the one in New York, and I know that’s the one you’ve wanted to go to, but it’s an art school. I had Mikey steal your sketchbook, and I copied some of your best drawings, and your mom and I sent them to the school. Needless to say, they loved them. And they’re offering you a place at the school, and they’re willing to pay for a fourth of your tuition. Your mom can cover the rest. All the details are in here.” I hand him the envelope and smile, hoping his reaction is as good as I hoped it’d be. 

“Frank, you…you sent…you got…what…” Gerard rambles, opening the envelope with shaking hands. “You’re not joking…” 

“Of course not, dumbass,” I reply. “So, see? I _told_ you you had nothing to worry about.”

“You did this…for me…?” There are tears in his eyes and I can see him still processing it. 

“I love you.” I lean in and press my lips to his, touching our foreheads together. When we pull away, I continue. “So yeah, I did this for you. Mikey helped a lot, and so did your mom.” 

“But it was your idea, Frankie, oh my fuckin’ god…” 

“You can transfer to the school in New York next year, but you actually have to apply.” 

“I can’t believe this…” 

“Believe it, babe. You start the same day we start school next year. You _do_ have an idea of what you’re doing next year. And now, all you have to do is enjoy the summer, and then you’re going to a school specializing in art. The one thing you love.” 

“No, the second thing I love. You’re the first,” Gerard declares, bringing me in for another kiss. “I love you so much, thank you. I can’t even fuckin’ believe this, thank you so fuckin’ much, Frankie. This is everything to me – _you_ are everything to me. Letting you in was the best decision I’ve ever made. I love you.” 

“I love you too. And see? You’re going to be okay. We both are.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, and all your amazing comments. I know I didn't reply to any that weren't questions - I usually don't - but every single one made me happy, so thank you. I really am satisfied with the way this ended - although what Frank did may not have been completely plausible, I'm using my creative license to make it so. Once again, thank you for all the support and love for this story - I appreciated every kudos, comment, and bookmark. You guys are amazing. 
> 
> This is not the last of me in terms of MCR fanfiction. There's another story I've already started, about Gerard relapsing with depression, alcoholism, suicidal thoughts, and drug addiction during the Black Parade era, and I'm going to post it soon. Look out for it! Until then, thank you, and I'll see you guys next time.


	21. Author's Note

So, it's been a while since I finished this story, and I've been doing some thinking. I'm really proud of how it came out, and I'm so glad a lot of you have enjoyed it too. A few weeks after I finished it, I started considering the idea of a sequel, and I wrote down some ideas. It'd mainly focus on Gerard and Frank's relationship as Gerard navigates his way through college and Frank tries to stay afloat in the hell that is junior year, and how their relationship is tested because of it. Would you all be interested in a sequel? Let me know. It probably won't be posted for a while, if I do decide to write it, but I'll start writing it in the next couple of days.


	22. Sequel

The sequel is up! It's called Abandoned, if you guys want to check it out. And again, thank you for all the positive comments. This story has been so well-received, and I'm so grateful. I hope you'll enjoy Abandoned as much as you've enjoyed this.


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